


Meta Fan Fiction

by Hatsonhamburgers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Constipation, Human Castiel, I don't want to give away too much, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mentions of Sabriel, Mutual Pining, Pining, Plot Twists, Plotty, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, but I'll tag the chapters, seasons 5-9 spoilers, supernatural universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7451215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatsonhamburgers/pseuds/Hatsonhamburgers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Dean and Cas meet and things happen and stuff.</p>
<p>I really don't want to write a summary because I don't want to ruin the surprise.  But it's fun and and smutty, so what have you got to lose?  </p>
<p>(Hint:  no one can really <i>make</i> you do anything)</p>
<p>EDIT: I was informed that being vague might deter readers.  I say read it and find out why I'm being so vague.  Your choice :*)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for taking the time to read this: I'm having a good time writing it, and a horrible time editing it. So errors and whatnot. No triggers to warn about in the chapter, except maybe how I compare Lucifer to Norman Bates.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. Most of this is already written so I'll be posting often.

Dean ran his hands through his hair. The day had been unbelievably hot and he was ready to close up shop. The toyota up on the rack was almost finished, and the owner wasn’t going to need it until the next afternoon, so Dean decided to let his staff have an early day.

His “staff” consisted of Garth Fitzgerald IV who did the oil changes and simpler maintenance jobs, and his best friend Charlie who worked part-time reception and did the books for the shop. Dean had been up to his eyeballs in paperwork (and his filing was basically just to set receipts and invoices on top of the coffee pot) when Charlie came in and took over that side of the business. She had streamlined the administrative part of his business and converted all the filing to computer. He would be lost without her. Correction: he wouldn’t know where anything was without her.

Dean stepped into the small waiting room adjacent to the office, and sighed in relief when the air conditioning hit him. He reached into the small fridge of complementary drinks and grabbed a water, gulping it all down in one go. Charlie lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Those aren’t free, you know,” she said, the corners of her mouth curling.

Dean gave her his best impression of Sam’s bitchface.

“You look like you’re going to melt,” she said, looking back down at the pile of invoices in front of her, “how much longer are you going to torture us before you give up and let us go home.”

She smiled sweetly at him as he rolled his eyes. “I actually was coming in to suggest that,” he said, “but since you’re being a smart ass, we might as well stay an extra hour.”

Charlie threw a hand across her forehead, and sighed dramatically. “Oh no,” she said in her best southern belle accent, “whatever am I going to do? Hey,” she said, dropping the accent, “let’s go the Roadhouse and grab some beers and write it off as a business lunch, whadda ya say?”

Dean chuckled as he rubbed some errant grease off his forearm. “Naw, but I tell you what,” he said as he unzipped his coveralls and kicked off his work boots, “we can close up early and I’ll buy the first round.”

Charlie cheered and snapped her laptop shut. “I’m gonna go get Garth and tell him the good news.” 

Dean nodded and and patted his pockets for his cell phone to check if Sam had texted him while he was working. Sam had been in town earlier that week for a job interview at a local law firm, and he was due to hear back from them any day now. He really hoped his kid brother got the job in Lawrence, if only for the selfish reason of having him back in the house again. Sam was the only family he had left, and having him so far away for the last several years meant he couldn’t help him as much. When Sam’s girlfriend Jess died, Dean felt so guilty that he could only go down and be with Sam for a week. Leaving the shop for longer than that would mean a serious loss of business, and he had employees counting on him. 

Charlie popped her head back into the office. “You got another one,” she said smirking, “and this one is a hottie, you know, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

Dean grunted and stood up, squinting out the dusty window. ‘That kind of thing’ apparently meant ‘dark haired gorgeous man with stunning blue eyes.’ 

Dean stood gawking at the man standing by a late model gold Lincoln. He was squinting in the sun and seemed to be deciding if he wanted to walk into the garage or toward the office. He settled on office and made his way over, his gait a little awkward and unsure. Dean had seen this before- a guy who knew nothing about car repair and was embarrassed to ask for help. 

Dean had known other mechanics who would make fun of guys like this, calling them ‘wimps’ or ‘pussies.’ They would taunt these guys like they were still in damn high school- making them repeat the sound their car was making over and over, just to give their brainless cronies a laugh.

Dean hated that. He knew those kind of assholes in his shop class in high school, and got in a few fights with them, standing up for the little guy. Dean knew too well what it felt like to not feel good enough, and he wasn’t going to let those fuckers get away with it. 

The customer approached the office, and Dean waited for him to enter. The man stepped into the cooler room and sighed the same way Dean had.

“Are you the owner of this business?” he asked, directing an inquisitive yet penetrating gaze at Dean.

Dean’s breath caught for a second as he saw the blue eyes; he had to shake himself slightly to process what the man had said.

“Yeah, uh,” Dean stammered, “I’m the owner, yeah, Dean Winchester.” He stuck his hand out and the man tentatively shook it, but had a firm grip. Dean kept staring back at this man until he realized that the handshake had gone on a bit too long. He snatched his hand back quickly as the man smiled. 

“Castiel Novak,” he said, the syllables rolling around in Dean’s head, like whisky and gravel.

“What seems to be the problem?” Dean asked, switching into professional mode.

“My vehicle’s air conditioner seems to be broken,” Castiel said, looking back at the car and squinting, “It has become unbearably hot, and I was hoping you could take a look at it.”

Dean nodded in affirmation, and pushed open the door to go back into the heat. He paused and looked back. “You can stay in here while I check it out, if you want. There’s drinks in there you can help yourself to.” Dean motioned to the mini fridge.

Castiel looked very relieved and nodded. He turned and opened the fridge and selected a water. Dean was mesmerized as the man bent over slightly, his slacks tightening over his ass. 

Dean realized he was still holding the door open, and ducked out quickly before the man could turn around.

He walked over to the Lincoln shaking his head. What was wrong with him? He must have been affected by the heat. He hadn’t gawked at another guy like that in years, but then again, the town was slim pickins when it came to attractive single men. 

Dean opened up the hood and inspected the air compressor. It was most likely just in need of a charge of freon, which he could do right away and be on the way to the Roadhouse in no time. 

He walked over to the garage to get a can of compressed freon. Garth and Charlie were standing together looking at him with identical smirks. 

Dean stopped, narrowing his eyes. “What?”

Charlie glanced at Garth, and skipped over to Dean and leaned on the workbench while he shuffled around a few items on the shelf looking for what he needed. 

“So who’s that?” she sang, batting her eyelashes at him.

“A customer,” Dean replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Mmm hmm, I figured that,” she said rolling her eyes, “what I meant was, ‘who’s that over there that is important enough for you to stay out here in the heat instead of telling him to come back in the morning.’”

Dean blushed. “It’s just a freon charge,” he mumbled, “I can get it done in no time. Keep your pants on, I’ll just meet you guys there in a few.”

“Looks like you’re the one who need to keep his pants on,” Garth piped up, his impish smile lighting up his face at his quip.

Charlie giggled and high-fived Garth, then turned back to Dean. “But seriously, don’t take too long, I need to beat you in pool at least twice before I go home. Trying to make a good impression on Jo.”

Dean snorted. “Like you even have to do that, she’s been eyeing you for like a month now. I don’t see why you don’t just make the first move. The prancing around to get her attention is getting annoying.”

Charlie sniffed and put on her demure face. “I like to be pursued sometimes, you know,” She said flippantly, “I like to give ‘em a little mystery.”

“Whatever- she intimidates the hell out of you, doesn’t she,” Garth said, turning his grin to her now.

“Okay peanut gallery,” Charlie said, grabbing Garth’s arm, “that’s enough out of you. Come on, let’s take your car, my AC’s out.”

Dean sighed, “I know a guy who could fix that for you, you know.”

“I know,” said Charlie, winking, “but now I have a reason to ask Jo for a ride home later.”

Dean laughed and waved them off. “That’s my girl. See ya’ll there in a few.”

Dean made his way back over to the Lincoln. He snuck a peek over at the office. Castiel was standing leaning against the window watching Dean. He tipped up his bottle of water and chugged down the second half without taking his eyes off Dean. 

Dean gulped and turned his head back to the car. It only took him a few minutes to fix the problem and he slammed the hood and returned his tools to the workbench and trotted back to the office. It was truly blistering out in the sun, and he knew he probably was beginning to stink like sweat now. 

Castiel was sitting in a chair, kind of stiffly, when he re-entered the waiting room. The man stood, and fumbled for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?” 

Dean smiled and motioned to the car. “It was just a little freon charge, don’t worry about it.”

Castiel looked uncertain, but slowly put his wallet away. “Thank you, that is very kind,” he said, tilting his head slightly, seeming to inspect Dean a little closer. “Is there a motel in town that has reasonable rates? I am in need of a place to sleep tonight.”

Dean irrationally thought _you could sleep in my bed if you want,_ but cleared his throat instead. “There’s a motel up the road by the bar I’m headed to, if you just want to follow me,” he said.

Castiel’s responding small smile made Dean’s stomach flip. He said thank you and followed Dean out the door to his Lincoln. After firing up the ignition, he smiled broadly at Dean when the air conditioning started blowing cold. Dean flushed and nodded, escaping to close up the garage and lock the office. He went around the side of the shop and got into his ‘67 Impala and pulled around to the front of the store, motioning Castiel to follow him. 

Dean couldn’t help checking his rear mirror every few seconds. He couldn’t get comfortable in the leather seat; it was burning hot from the sun on it most of the day, but he was trying to sit still so Castiel wouldn’t think he was some kind of nut job. 

They drove through the center of town and then south on Main. The Roadhouse sat just outside the township, and next to it was the Morning Star motel, a pretty decent place to stay, if you got past the creepy owner, Lucifer. He was a little too Norman Bates for Dean’s liking, plus he had a thing for Sam Winchester which grossed Dean out. The guy made Dean’s skin crawl, but he was pretty harmless, so Castiel would be fine there.

Dean parked on the side, and Castiel pulled in next to him. They got out at the same time, and Castiel regarded Dean with a warm smile. 

“I’m going to go check in, I suppose,” he said, tilting his head again (which Dean found endearing), “does this establishment serve food as well as alcohol?”

Dean chuckled at the formal way he spoke. “Yeah, Ellen makes a cheeseburger that’ll knock your socks off. Hey, why don’t I order you something, that way it’ll be ready when you’re done at the motel.” Dean cringed inwardly; it was very unusual for him to be so friendly to a customer, let alone a stranger. 

Castiel’s face broke into a large gummy smile. It brightened up his face exponentially. Dean found himself smiling back as he turned to the Roadhouse door and parted ways with Castiel. 

******

Castiel entered the motel office and rang the bell. The room was not exactly hot, but the air didn’t seem to move and the temperature was this side of unbarable. He hoped the rooms were more efficiently cooled.

A tall man sauntered out of a back room and approached Castiel. He had a sly smile on his lips and sidled up to the counter.

“Can I help you,” he crooned, twitching an eyebrow at Castiel.

“I would like a single room, please,” Castiel said, ignoring the obvious flirting.

“All by yourself, then,” the man said suggestively, “here you go, room 4. If you need anything, and I mean _anything,_ don’t hesitate to call the desk. I’m always here, and can get you whatever you need.”

Cas took the key, careful not to brush the attendant’s fingers with his own. He smiled tightly and signed the ledger in front of him.

The man turned the book around and read his name. 

“Castiel…” he said, eyes flitting up to Cas’ under his lashes, “that’s a coincidence, I have the name of an angel too.”

That piqued Castiel’s interest slightly. “I see. What is your name?”

“Lucifer,” he purred, “like the archangel, only I have yet to fall for anyone yet.” He chuckled at his own joke, and Castiel had to hold his face still so the revulsion wouldn’t show on his features. 

This man made Castiel very uncomfortable. He nodded and thanked him and quickly went back to his car to move it closer to room 4. He decided to take a quick shower before meeting the intriguing green-eyed man for dinner. Hopefully he would get there before his food got cold. He didn’t want Dean to think he had stood him up after being so gracious about fixing his vehicle for free. 

Castiel was grateful for a cool room as he stripped down quickly and hopped into the shower, turning on the taps and groaning excitedly at the good water pressure. A day of driving in the heat had worn him out, but meeting Dean gave him a burst of energy. Watching him lean into the Lincoln, his strong arms flexing as he worked had burned a hole in Castiel’s gut. The feeling of desire had flooded him then, and it was returning as he stood under the warm spray of water. He started to become erect, and he considered ignoring it in favor of being punctual, but there was a risk of him becoming aroused in Dean’s presence, and that just wouldn’t do. It had to be resolved now, and he needed to be quick. 

He ran his hands down his body to his half-engorged penis. With a couple of strokes and the image of Dean in his mind, he was completely hard. He stroked gently, increasing his speed at the thought of going to see Dean and getting to sit across the table from him. 

The green-eyed man that met him at the shop was achingly beautiful, and Castiel had to school his features very carefully and restrain himself from stepping closer to the man. He had been told in the past by a few people that he really had an issue with “personal space’’ and he didn’t want to scare the man off. 

Castiel tightened his fist and moved his other hand down to fondle his balls, reaching further back to put pressure on his perineum. He pictured Dean kneeling in front of him in the shower, his lips inches away from Castiel’s dick, moving in to take a taste. Cas twisted his hand and breached the rim of his hole just slightly as he came gasping over his fist and on the shower wall. 

He stood there holding the wall, panting, waiting for his legs to stop shaking. He finished washing himself (and the shower wall) and stepped out to quickly brush his teeth.

Castiel considered what Dean had been wearing as he picked out his outfit. Dean had on an old pair of blue jeans that fit him in all the right places, a tight black t shirt, and the most beautiful smile Castiel had ever seen. He felt drawn to him. He was elated when the Dean had invited him to come eat with him at the Roadhouse. It wasn’t exactly a date, but it was an opportunity to find out if Dean was interested in men. If not, Castiel could always use a friend.

Castiel had come through town, mostly just meandering around the midwest, with no actual destination in mind. He had left California to get away from his family- they had been less than supportive of his chosen profession- and he had saved up enough money to take off and have an adventure. 

The Roadhouse door swung open with a loud squeak, causing the patrons to look up, as if by habit. Cas froze for a second and a flush crawled up his neck at the sudden attention. He sighed in relief as most went back to their drinks and conversation, uninterested in the newcomer at the door.

“Hey,” a loud voice interrupted Castiel’s thoughts, “close the door, will ya? We’re losing precious air conditioning.”

Castiel quickly pushed the door shut and looked to the voice that had addressed him. A blonde young woman was drying glasses behind the bar, smiling knowingly at him. He approached timidly, slowly returning the smile.

Her grin grew and she gestured with her head to the tables on his left.

“Dean’s over there,” she said lightly before moving to the end of the bar to take an order. 

Castiel turned to find the man from his very recent masterbatory fantasy sitting a few tables away, sipping a beer and carefully looking away from Castiel. There were already a couple of tall glasses of water with the ice mostly melting. Castiel approached the table slowly and Dean turned to greet him with a warm smile.

Castiel sucked in a breath. Dean was more stunning than he remembered. His eyes were grass green and he was tan with a smattering of freckles across his nose. His calloused, oil-stained hands were idly stroking the neck of the beer bottle he was holding, causing Castiel’s dick to twitch in his pants. He sat quickly before Dean could see. 

“Hello, Dean,” he said, reaching for his water, “thank you for ordering the water, I am sorry that I am late.” He picked up the glass and drained half of it, suddenly struck by how thirsty he was. He only put the glass down to take a breath.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean returned, smiling crookedly at him. “Did that creep-o at the motel hold you up?” 

Castiel raised his eyebrows at the nickname, but said nothing about it. It was strangely familiar coming off the man’s lips. Those soft, plump, lips. Cas blinked and remembered to answer the question.

“Yes. He seemed adamant in offering me help if I needed it, although I’m not sure of an instance where I would need his assistance.”

Dean threw his head back and laughed openly, causing Cas to smile, lit up inside from making Dean laugh, but still not knowing why.

Dean wiped a tear away as he died down to giggles. “He was hitting on you, you know that, right?” 

Cas furrowed his brows and tilted his head. “I was thinking that was what happened, but I trust you know more about him than me.”

“Yeah, he’s a creeper,” Dean said, motioning to the bartender for another beer, before turning to Cas, eyebrows raised in silent question.

Cas nodded and the bartender brought over a couple of bottles of the brand Dean was drinking. “Thanks, Jo,” Dean said, winking at the blonde. She rolled her eyes and batted his arm, but smiled at him as she walked away.

“Food’s on it’s way out,” she said over her shoulder as she returned to the bar.

Cas watched her walk away, wondering if this was maybe Dean’s girlfriend. He chewed his lip, contemplating. It was a possibility that Dean was interested in men, but the chances were low. Cas turned back to Dean, his face flushed as he saw that Dean must have been staring, a small smirk on his face.

“Don’t worry,” he staged whispered to Cas, “she’s like a sister to me.”

Cas nodded dumbly. Why would he tell him that? How was it relevant? Was this a date? Why would he worry (even though that’s _exactly_ what he was doing)?

Cas didn’t get a chance to ask any questions as the food suddenly appeared in front of him, delivered by a tall, burly man with a beard. He set the plates down, smiling, and winked at Cas.

“Can I get ya’ll anything else?” he drawled in a Southern accent, “maybe a refill on water?”

Dean shook his head, not even looking up at the man. “Thanks, naw, Benny, we got it from here.”

The man (Benny, Cas assumed), walked away with a smile. Clearly, the man made Dean feel awkward, and Cas hoped it was because he was an ex. Dean fidgeted for a moment before meeting Cas’ eyes and clearing his throat, grinning. 

“Dig in!” he said enthusiastically, “Benny makes the best burgers in town, maybe even the state.” He accentuated the statement with a huge bite of his burger.

Cas picked up the monstrosity, eyeing it carefully, deciding where to make his first bite without it falling apart on him. He nodded to himself and closed his eyes and dove in. The burger had grilled onions and mushrooms with a bourbon sauce, topped off with swiss cheese. The bun was homemade, and there was a pile of sweet potato fries on the plate. 

Cas moaned around the burger as the flavors mixed on his tongue. He opened his eyes to comment, but caught Dean staring, his own burger forgotten in his hand. 

Dean jerked, and blush creeped up his neck as he took another bite. “I take it that you like it,” he said as he took another bite.

“These make me very happy,” Cas said, losing himself in another bite. He looked up to see if Dean was enjoying the sounds he was making, but there was a different look on the man’s face this time. He looked far away, paused mid-chew, his hand holding the burger trembling slightly.

Cas was concerned. “Dean? Are you alright?”

Dean snapped out of his trance and focused on Cas again, face still holding some confusion. “Uh, sorry, Cas,” he said sheepishly, “that, uh, phrase...I’ve heard it before. But I’m not really sure when.”

Cas nodded even though he had no idea what Dean was talking about. The two finished their food in companionable silence, leaning back in their chairs, satisfied. They exchanged stories about their families and Cas told him about going off on his own to get away from the corporate world his family seemed bent on him being enmeshed in. Dean listened thoughtfully and asked questions, laughing occasionally, making Cas wonder how he managed to become so funny all of a sudden. The bottles slowly multiplied and Jo eventually came by and cleared them away, looking pointedly at Dean.

“Oh,” Dean said to Jo, then turned to Cas, “I guess they’re about to lock up here.”

Cas was surprised. How had it gotten so late so quickly? It was very strange he didn’t notice; he was usually very apt at keeping time. It was one of the reasons his brother was determined to keep him with the company. On the exterior he was organized and thorough, but inside he longed to be creative and make connections he’d never been able to make before. 

“Um, I guess I should go back to my room,” Cas said, suddenly sad to leave the company of the man in front of him. 

Dean’s hand shot out and caught his wrist as he stood. Dean looked down where they were connected, eyes wide, before quickly letting go. “Sorry,” he said, “do you want to, um, maybe come back to my place?”

Cas blushed at the very forward offer.

Dean ran a hand over his face, looking embarrassed. “Ah geez, I’m sorry Cas, I didn’t mean it like it sounded, I meant you could come to my house and we could keep talking, but it’s cool if you need to sleep or whatever-”

Cas smiled, interrupting Dean’s babbling with a touch to his wrist. “Of course I’ll come to your house, Dean,” he said lightly, “that sounds nice.”

Dean beamed and stood up, going to the bar to pay the tab. Jo was leaning on the bar with the redhead young lady Castiel recognized from the shop. Jo waved her hand at him, shaking her head and smiling, and bent to whisper something to Dean that Cas couldn’t hear. Dean blushed and scowled at her, which caused her companion to giggle and ruffle his hair. 

Dean walked back to the door where Cas was waiting, combing through his short hair with his fingers to straighten it. Cas felt the urge to knock his hands away to replace them with his own, but to mess it up further and drag his face close to his. 

Dean stood close by the door, hand on it, but not opening it yet. “Do you just want to ride with me?” he asked, “I mean it’s cool if you don’t, but I can bring you back to your car later, save you some gas.”

“Okay,” Cas agreed, “that would be fine. I would have probably gotten lost trying to get back to the motel anyway. I have no GPS and am terrible at following directions in the dark.”

Something about what Cas said made Dean chuckle darkly. “I guess we’ll have to work on that,” he mumbled as he pushed the door open.

Cas shrugged at the comment and followed Dean into the parking lot. It was nearly as hot late at night as it had been during the day. The air was heavy, the humidity making droplets of moisture cling to Cas almost immediately as they made their way to Dean’s car.

“67 Impala,” remarked Cas, before he could even think about it. 

Dean jerked his head up to look at Cas across the top of the vehicle. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said, impressed, “you know a lot about cars?”

Cas shook his head, confused. “No, not at all, really...I just seemed to know.” He slid into the passenger seat and waited for Dean to take them to his house.

Something was very familiar about all of this- Cas felt like he was missing something, like missing the first part of a movie where the characters are introduced and the plot set up. It was a little disorienting. He guessed he must have drank more beer than he meant to.

Dean popped a cassette into the tape deck and smiled. “You like Zeppelin?”

“I don’t listen to them, but I know who they are,” responded Cas, wondering for a moment what music he did like, and not coming up with much. Maybe he was drunk after all.

Suddenly he worried that it was a bad idea to get drunk with this stranger in a strange town and go to his house in a place where Cas couldn’t find his way out on his own. He began to get nervous. This was far beyond anything he had ever done before. He was more the type to make careful plans ahead of time and try and follow them out to the letter. He was in way over his head.

Loud rock music was blasting as they flew down the highway, the windows down and the wind whipping through Cas’ hair. Dean was singing loudly, and a little off-key. Cas smiled at him, relaxing slightly. Dean glanced at him and smiled back, purposefully singing louder to get another smile out of Cas.

They pulled up to Singer Salvage, much to Cas’ surprise. Dean pulled the car around the side of the shop and headed down a gravel driveway to a house settled in the back of a small field full of junked cars. As the headlights bounced off it, Cas could see that it was worn and needed a paint job, but the large porch and small gardens in front made it seem cosy and well-loved. 

The Impala's engine was cut off and silence enveloped them. There were stars out, but the moon was new, so when Dean switched off the headlights, the darkness seemed almost as oppressive as the heat. Dean chuckled lowly in his throat, causing Cas to freeze. Then Dean switched the headlights back on.

“Sorry, I meant to leave em on,” he said lightly, “let me go run in and turn on the porch light.” He jumped out and jogged up the steps and opened the door to switch on the light. The porch flooded with a soft yellow glow.

Cas leaned over and switched off the headlights and climbed out of the car. He made his way up the step and walked in while Dean held the door. He was no longer afraid, and he felt comfortable in his surroundings. Like he had been there before.

The kitchen was cheery and as worn as the exterior, but spotless. Dean was rummaging around in a cabinet, and smiled triumphantly when he found what he was looking for. He held up a half-empty bottle of whisky and a couple of glasses. He motioned for Cas to follow him, and led the way to a study of sorts where there were hundreds of books lining the walls.

Cas breathed in the smell of old books and took the glass of whisky offered to him. He picked the couch and settled into it, Dean sitting on the other end, turned slightly toward him. Dean suddenly looked nervous.

“I got to tell you something, Cas,” Dean said, leaning forward until he was resting his forearms on his knees, stretching out his back, “I don’t ever really do this.”

Cas arched an eyebrow at him and took a sip. “Oh?”

Dean snorted, “Okay that sounded like a line… What I meant was, that I usually don’t invite strangers back to my house in the middle of the night, but I, uh…” he played with the cup in his hands looking into it. “I just wasn’t ready for the night to end.”

Cas was surprised. The man who was so confident a few moments ago seemed as shy as Cas felt now. He swallowed the warm liquid down, relishing the burn and hoping it would give him the courage to do what he wanted to do next. He set his glass on the side table and slid across the couch to be closer to Dean. He reached up delicately, taking a pretty big risk, and cupped Dean’s face, bringing it in close to his own and gently pressed their lips together. 

He drew back to study Dean’s reaction and see if he guessed wrong. Dean was staring at him wide-eyed and frozen, his lips parting slightly and his face flushed. Cas dropped his hand slowly and started to back away. Dean surged forward, pressing their lips again, this time more firmly. Cas moaned into the kiss, causing Dean to open his lips, deepening the kiss.

Dean blindly sat his glass on the floor, never breaking the kiss and tentatively dipped his tongue into Cas’ mouth which was rewarded with a swirl of Cas’ tongue in his own. 

Cas wound his arms around Dean, pulling him closer, and Dean came forward until he was straddling Cas’ lap. Cas hummed in agreement, and pressed even closer, lining them up, rubbing themselves hard against each other. 

Dean groaned into the kiss, sending a surge of heat to Cas’ abdomen. He was so turned on, he was worried he might come in his pants like an adolecent if they kept going.

Fortunately, Dean broke the kiss and moved to Cas’ neck and started pulling his shirt open. Cas sat up and let him pull it off, catching kisses between pulling Dean’s shirt and unbuckling his pants. Dean opened Cas’ quicker and he slid to the floor, surprising a gasp out of Cas, who watched with hooded eyes as Dean mouthed over the fabric of his boxers as he jerked Cas’ pants and socks and shoes off. He leaned up for a kiss again, this one rough and needy. Cas moaned in excitement. This adonis, this immaculate example of mankind was working his mouth over his body, pulling him apart piece by piece.

Somehow, Cas’ shirt joined the rest of his clothes on the floor, exposing his sweating skin to the air conditioning. He shivered in anticipation of Dean’s next move. Slowly, never breaking eye contact, Dean pulled Cas’ boxers down, Cas lifting his ass so they could be slid off completely. Dean was still partially dressed, his shirt off but his pants only unbuttoned. 

“Clothes off, Dean,” Cas said with authority, causing Dean’s eyes to dilate further. He quickly stood and pulled his boots and socks off, followed by his jeans and boxer briefs. 

Cas drank in the sight before him. Dean stood unabashedly, lightly stroking his cock and smirking down at Cas. Cas gulped at the size of it his hand, it was long and impossibly hard, slightly curving upward and already leaking at the tip.

Cas reached forward, pulling Dean’s hips to him, placing open-mouthed kisses and sucking bruises on his inner thigh and hip bones. Dean moaned under his touch, staring down at Cas with hooded eyes and his lips parted slightly. 

Cas ran his tongue up Dean’s inner thigh, inhaling his musky manly scent and groaning as he tasted the precome beading on the tip of his cock. Dean threw his head back and made obscene noises followed by a string of expletives. Cas answered by swallowing him down. He couldn’t fit it all in his throat, so he gripped the base, spreading his saliva to stroke the lower part of Dean’s shaft. 

Dean moved his hands from Cas’ shoulders to his hair, tugging gently as he worked Dean over. Dean stilled Cas’ head suddenly, and pulled him off. 

“Uh, Cas,” he breathed, “I don’t want this to be over that quick, I mean, damn, that was amazing, but I have something else in mind.”

Cas smiled at him wickedly and stood. “Lead the way,” he responded, leaning in for a peck on the lips that soon turned into a heated kiss- tongues and teeth and groaning in each other’s mouth. Dean stumbled them backwards to the master bedroom and pushed Cas down on the bed, following him and straddling his lap. Their mouths met in a flurry of licks and sucking, panting desperately, rutting against one another.

Dean pulled away and looked down at Cas. His broad shoulders were covered in a sheen of sweat that glinted in the pale light coming from the hall. Cas ran his hands up to Dean’s nipples, rubbing his fingers over them lightly, marveling at the way the flesh tightened into a hard little nub. Humans were so interesting. Their bodies were complicated machines, each part a holy creation of his Father’s design. Dean was an exquisite example of divine creation. 

Cas froze. What the fuck was-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #Cas at the bunker  
> #Season 8 spoilers  
> #smut  
> #handjobs  
> #Human!Cas  
> #some other things I'm sure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya go as promised. I'm a lazy editor- forgive me. 
> 
>  
> 
> Comment meeeeeeeeeee 
> 
> I'm needy

The fall had been the worst experience of Cas’ very long life; including being blown up a few times and tortured by Naomi. He was completely human for the first time ever, and the world seemed terrifying and lonely. If it wasn’t for the Winchesters, he would have easily died on the road being hunted by the other angels. The shame he felt was overwhelming. There was so many emotions spinning through his head it made it hard to think. So he called the brothers with his tail between his legs and asked them to come and get him. He was sure they would turn him away, but Dean was quick to tell him it wasn’t his fault, and they would get Metatron and restore his grace somehow. 

It was raining hard by the time Dean showed up. Cas didn’t know where to wait, so he stayed in the phone booth, wet and shivering, until he saw the Impala’s headlights appear in the distance. He almost passed out in relief. His legs were aching from muscle fatigue and his abdomen was burning with a strange sensation. Lights trained over the booth as Dean’s car halted with a familiar squeal of brakes, then sat idling. 

Dean stepped out of the Impala and pulled his coat over his head to keep the rain off and ran over to the booth. He helped Cas walk to the passenger seat and dropped him in, buckling his seat belt for him. The car was so warm and dry that Cas was asleep against the window before Dean had hopped back into the driver’s seat. 

Cas woke sometime later, his body still aching, but it had dulled enough for him to sit up and stretch. Sometime during the trip back to Lebanon, Dean had removed his trenchcoat and covered him up with the blankets that resided in the Impala’s trunk. Cas looked around and blinked in the light of dawn, noting that it was no longer raining. Dean glanced over at him a few times, looking worried.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean said with a crooked smile, “how ya holdin’ up? You’ve been asleep for a while now, and I was wondering if you wanted to stop to get some breakfast.”

Castiel’s stomach growled in response. He blushed. He opened his mouth with a small smile, but all he managed was a rusty croak. He slapped his hands over his throat at the sudden flare of pain.

“Hey, take it easy,” Dean said softly, “you might have caught a little cold. Drink a little water, that helps.”

Cas took the offered bottle and tried a sip. It burned going down, but he started gulping greedily and couldn’t seem to stop. The bottle was empty in a flash, causing his stomach to slosh and make him a little queazy.

Dean observed this, and slowed the car to the side of the road. “Have you drank anything in the last 24 hours?”

Cas shook his head no.

“Man, no wonder you look like crap.” Dean turned off the motor and shifted in his seat to look directly at Cas. He reached out, causing Cas to flinch slightly. A flash of guilt ran across Dean’s face, quickly replaced with concern. Dean put the back of his hand against Cas’ forehead and then sat back.

“Yeah, you’re a little warm, but not too bad,” he said, “we need to get some food in you, then I can give you a Tylenol. Wouldn’t want you to puke on my seats.” He attempted a smile at his own joke, but it looked more like a grimace. 

“Dean,” Cas croaked. He cleared his throat and started again. “Dean. Thank you for coming to get me. You didn’t have to-

 

“Shut up, Cas,” Dean said lightly, “You’re family, of course I had to.”

Cas tried a smile, and nodded a thanks. Dean continued to watch him carefully for a few moments before speaking.

“Kevin is staying at the bunker now, and Sam’s recovering from the trials. We have plenty of room and we’d be happy to have you around.” He looked away. “I’d be happy to have you around,” he almost whispered.

Cas looked at him with rounded eyes. It was an acknowledgment he needed to hear more than anything. He wanted to reach out and pull the man into a tight hug. To tell him that he missed him so much. That he had been lost and Dean was the only reason he kept pushing forward and not giving up. That he knew he didn’t deserve the happiness Dean was offering, but he would accept it as long as Dean would have him.

But all he managed was a weak smile and a grumbly thank you.

***  
Castiel tentatively walked through the bunker, following close behind Sam. They passed through the kitchen, by the bathroom, and finally to an empty room that would be Castiel’s own bedroom. He had never had his own room before and was kind of excited by the prospect of being able to make the space his own.

Seeing Kevin the prophet was a better experience than Cas had anticipated. There was a warm feeling in his chest and he had the urge to hug him. The boy seemed surprised but returned the embrace. Cas felt so guilty that the young man had been pulled into the chaos that was his world and robbed of a normal life. But he hid it with a smile and went with Sam to take a short tour of the bunker and see his room. 

His clothing had dried in transit, but Dean had given him an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt and hoodie. The pants were a bit loose, apparently not eating for the last week and a half had caused his vessel to shrink slightly. He had been enthralled by the food Dean had brought him, everything tasted so _good._ Dean had slow him down so he wouldn’t get sick. It was really strange the amount of maintenance that was required as a human, but he was grateful for the guidance from the brothers. 

Sam handed Cas a towel and led him to the showers and gave him a quick tutorial on how to bathe. It seemed simple enough, so Cas thanked the hunter and shut the door, and took off his borrowed clothing. 

The water began to steam up the room. Cas found he could breathe a little better. His cold had not gotten too much worse; the low fever had broken before he and Dean had returned to the bunker. Dean had said that if he hadn’t been in the neighborhood (only 5 hours away), Cas would have been a lot worse off. But Dean knew the exact things to do to help the ex-angel, and Cas quietly reveled in the attention, using it as a distraction from the never-ending monologue of self-loathing running through his head. 

The shower was hot to the touch, so Cas added a little cold, as Sam had shown him, to make the right temperature. He stepped slowly in, until he was standing directly under the shower head. The water ran over his head and body, causing a low moan of pleasure to escape his lips. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. It was almost sinful the way it made him feel so good. One intense emotion led to another, causing tears to form in his eyes. He allowed them to fall for the first time, mingling with the hot water and swirling down the drain. He had never felt so alone in his existence and he couldn’t bring himself to even pray. He slumped his shoulders and just stood there, listening to the static of the water as it hit the floor.

When he was sufficiently clean (and done crying and feeling sorry for himself), he turned the water off and wrapped himself in the fluffy towel Sam had given him. The mirror was fogged over, so Cas wiped a hand across it, clearing a distorted path of condensation that held his reflection for a second before fogging over again.

His face was scruffy and he looked haggard and lost. He decided against trying to shave and settled on brushing off the scum that was covering his teeth. He squirted toothpaste into his mouth and unwrapped the new toothbrush sitting on the sink. He figured out a rhythm and his mouth was quickly overwhelmed with foam. He spat as a there was a knock at the door.

“Gahm Igg,” he spoke around the mouthful of foam dripping from his mouth into the sink. The door swung open, and Dean walked into the still foggy bathroom, waving the steam away from his face. He looked at Cas and froze, eyes wide. Cas raised his brows in question.

Dean’s face turned red as he looked away from Cas. “I brought you some clothes,” he said pointedly.

Cas tilted his head at him then stuck his head under the faucet to wash out his mouth. Oh. He had taken his towel off and apparently Dean was uncomfortable with his nudity. 

“Thank you, Dean,” he said, taking the clothing and inspecting them. They were more of Dean’s clothing, this time some soft pajama pants and a Nirvana t-shirt. Dean was still looking away, but hadn’t left the room. Cas pulled on the pants and began towelling off his head.

“Is there something else, Dean?” he asked.

Dean cleared his throat and finally looked at him. “Yeah, I, uh, wanted to see if you needed help shaving. I know it was a bitch to do when I was 14, so I thought I’d offer to do it and show you how for next time.”

Cas smiled brightly, maybe for the first time since the fall. Or even longer. “Thank you Dean,” he said, “that’s very considerate.”

Dean blushed again and grumbled a you’re welcome. He put his shaving kit down on the counter and plugged in the electric razor to trim first. He motioned Cas to stand in front of him, and he turned on the clippers. Cas jumped at the sound, but held still so Dean could remove the longer hair from his beard. Cas was afforded the small pleasure of studying Dean’s face close-up as the man worked. His brows were drawn together in concentration, and Cas began to feel a tingling sensation to form in his abdomen. He felt blood rushing southward and pooling in a way that caused his penis to stiffen. He realized what an embarrassing situation this could be for Dean, so Cas shifted his gaze to the wall beyond Dean and willed his erection away. He thought about things that disgusted him (Naomi, Metatron, Crowley), until he had his body under control again. This problem had been happening more frequently, especially since he had been picked up by Dean. His proximity seemed to be causing Cas to lose control over this particular part of his anatomy. This would need further studying, he concluded.

Dean had finished the clipper part of the task. He smiled at his handiwork and caught Cas’ eyes and stepped back, dropping his gaze quickly. He cleared his throat and grabbed the shaving cream. Cas suppressed a smile and held still for Dean to slather his face with the white foam. The razor process was more delicate, and Dean was so focused that the tip of his tongue peeked out of his mouth in concentration. Cas nearly went cross-eyed trying to look then not-look at it. He felt his pajama bottoms start to tent again, and remembering that they were _Dean’s_ pajama bottoms certainly didn’t help. 

Dean seemed satisfied with his job and wet a washcloth to wipe off the excess foam. Cas looked into the now unfogged mirror and smiled at the results. He looked less tired. That was more helpful than he thought it would be.

“There’s the Cas we all know and love!” Dean exclaimed.

Cas snapped his attention to him, head cocked and eyes wide.

Dean rushed on, “You might want to rinse off the little beard hairs off your chest, or they’ll be itchy as hell.” 

Dean’s gaze swept over Cas’ form before stopping at Cas’ half-hard erection. He squeaked and ran from the bathroom slamming the door. Cas shrugged and pulled off the pajamas, very happy to get to get back in the shower again.

He rinsed quickly, running his hands all over his body, liking the feel of the hot water dribbling on his penis. The member started filling with more blood, standing at full attention. Cas wasn’t unfamiliar with the process of masturbation. But theory was different than practice. He ran his fingertips over the stiffened flesh and shuddered at the sensation. He gripped it fully and squeezed gently, causing a different feeling to spark in his belly. He experimentally pulled the skin forward and back again, feeling almost too much friction. He looked around in the shower and settled on a bottle of conditioner. After squirting a little into his right palm, he stroked himself again, gasping at the slick wave of pleasure that rolled through him. He began pumping rhythmically, enjoying the build of pressure and the tingle of anticipation. 

He figure he could climax just from the action, but he knew (from Dean and his obsession with Busty Asian Beauties) that visualization helped increase in the pleasure of the experience. He tried to think of the pizza man pornography, but he was unsatisfied with the imagery. He tried picturing himself as the girl that the pizza man was penetrating, and that seemed to turn him in the right direction. He moaned and fondled his balls in his other hand, enjoying the feeling. 

Suddenly, the pizza man’s face changed. It was Dean now, fucking into Cas, smacking him lightly on the rear, and running his hands over his back. Cas felt his pleasure spike suddenly and he came, biting his lip, trying to suppress calling out Dean’s name. His come spurted over his hand and onto the floor. He stroked himself until he was sensitive to the touch. Cas watched as the ejaculate slid down the drain. He leaned against the wall until his legs could hold his full weight again, then he turned off the faucet and dried himself again. He pulled the pants back on and grabbed the shirt to put it on too. Instead, he lifted it to his nose and smelled it- it was the smell of Dean which was oddly comforting and arousing at the same time. His dick twitched, but he was out of energy, so he put on the shirt and headed to his room to get some sleep.

*******

Dean was plastered to the back of his door, panting and covering his face with both hands. His dick was hard and pressing against his zipper. He couldn’t get the image of Cas’ wet, naked body out of his head, along with the tented pajama pants image. The two pictures kept trying to merge in his head, and he was having trouble staying upright. He needed to relieve the pressure, and quickly. 

He locked the door and unzipped, pulling his pants and underwear to his thighs. His cock sprang free and he gasped in relief. He licked his palm and started stroking himself, licking the middle finger of his other hand and pushing into his hole without any preamble. He moaned low at the painful pleasure it produced. He pictured Cas with his erection standing inches from him, looking directly into his eyes. Dean pictured dropping to his knees and pulling Cas’ hard and leaking cock out and shoving it into his mouth, pushing it to the back of his throat in one swift motion. He inhaled sharply as he came hard, splattering over his knuckles and dripping down to his half-opened jeans. He slid down the wall to a seated position, and buried his face in the crook of his elbow, very aware that he had just complicated the shit out of things.

***

Sam had found a case in Indiana, and Dean was frankly glad to get away from the bunker to sort out his feelings. Not that he’d ever admit out loud that he even _had_ feelings, let alone feelings for his newly-fallen best friend. 

They had been in the car for about three hours before Sam finally said something. Dean could tell he was itching to ask something, and was probably hoping Dean would just start talking first, but as usual, Dean cranked up the music and tried to drown out his thoughts as well as his brother’s. 

Sam reached over and turned the volume down.

“Dean,” he started, causing an eyeroll from the driver’s seat, “what’s going on with you and Cas?”

Dean bit his lip to keep from answering too quickly. He didn’t want to appear to eager to deny it, or Sam would see right through it.

“What do you mean, Sammy?” Dean feigned ignorance.

“You know what I mean,” he said, pulling a pursed-lip bitchface, “you’ve been acting differently around each other since he moved in with us. You leave when he comes in the room, and he leaves when you come in. Even Kevin has noticed.”

“Kevin, huh?” Dean said lightly, “you know, I’m really glad that little guy came to stay with us. He’s great to have around.”

Sam smiled. “Yeah he’s really smart and we were talking about- hey, wait! Don’t change the subject!” The bitchface returned with severity. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I think it needs to be addressed. You obviously are having feelings.”

Dean’s face started to get hot. He kept his eyes forward.

“Sam there’s nothing wrong, just leave it,” he said.

Sam sighed and slumped back in his seat. “Okay, whatever, but you’re going to have to forgive him some time.”

Dean squinted, thrown by the seeming non-sequitur. He quickly realized Sam thought Dean might still be upset about what happened in Lucifer’s crypt, and Cas almost killing him. Fact was, Dean forgave him immediately when it was revealed that Cas was under Naomi’s control. But Sam was under the impression that was what was causing the tension between him and Cas. That worked nicely.

Dean sighed dramatically. “I know, Sam, you’re right.” He glanced at his younger brother, seeing if he was buying it. “I just need to get over myself. I mean- Cas is family! We all have made mistakes and have hurt each other.” He grinned in Sam’s direction. “In fact, by that definition, that already makes him a Winchester.”

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh, seeming to accept what Dean was selling.

 

***

The brothers returned to the bunker within 48 hours. What looked like a possible vamp attack turned out to be a simple haunting salt-n-burn. Dean was grateful that Sam seemed placated by his vow to talk to Cas when they got back. It made Dean relax a little for the rest of the hunt, but the closer they had gotten to the bunker, the higher the anxiety he felt.

He actually hadn’t spoken to Cas directly since the shaving incident. Dean figured the ex-angel just needed to some time to adjust, so he had basically left him alone to recover. Or he was avoiding him because the mere thought of a naked Cas sent Dean down the gay-panic rabbit hole.

Dean had never really considered being with a man. It just wasn’t something that came up. He had a few friends here and there that were gay, and it never rubbed him the wrong way or made him uncomfortable. To him, it was like, ‘who you love is who you love, as long as you’re happy or at least getting off with a smile on your face.’ Even though his dad had been a military man, he passed on a rather liberal attitude to his sons about sexuality, race, and nationality. Dean figured being a hunter made you appreciate every human being you could save, and the differences just made life more interesting. He liked to think that these were things his mother would be proud of him for. 

To be attracted to a male was not something he planned on. It came out of left field: angel of the lord walks into barn= hunter is smashed in the face with instant crush. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling for some time. If you had asked him, he would say that he fell in love at first sight every time he stepped into a bar. But this was confusing, so he treated it the same way he did with every foreign feeling he ever had- anger. Anger was the easiest cover for gut-wrenching terror, and Dean was gonna be furious. It only occurred to him later that the fear wasn’t about Cas being an angel, or even a male, it was because Dean had never felt such intense attraction for another living soul. And loving someone would always end in pain. His life was a textbook of loss. To give in to such feelings would mean eventual grief, so Dean did what he did best. He squashed it down and pretended it wasn’t there. Which always worked out so well for him.

Life (and the Apocalypse) had kept them so busy that he didn’t have to deal with his ongoing attraction to his best friend, but the year when Cas was God then the Leviathan drowned him… He nearly hadn’t made it out alive himself. He was lost without Castiel. He and Sam attended to business as usual, trying to obliterate the Leviathans and saving the occasional person. Dean spent the time in the bottom of a whiskey bottle, with poor Sam trying to pick up the pieces. 

But then Cas was there. And Dean had to watch him find a companion in Meg, and had to leave him behind with her. 

Dean had to work hard to keep the memories of Purgatory at bay. He would often wake terrified, with the remnants of nightmares of trying to find Cas in the never-ending woods. He saw himself leaving Cas behind, over and over. 

It seemed he was always chasing after Cas. And he was always just out of reach.

********

Cas made a sandwich. He had become heavily addicted to peanut butter, and it had helped him regain the weight he had lost after the fall. They were simple to make and didn’t require any actual cooking- and he had already been banned from the appliances by Sam when he had tried to bake a chicken while it was still in the wrapper.

Cas could see that Dean wanted to talk to him. The hunter had been lingering by the kitchen door for some time, and Cas patiently waited for him to come in and break the ice. They had not spoken much since Dean taught him to shave, and Cas welcomed the opportunity to apologize for his inappropriate erection. 

Dean seemed to make up his mind and walked in and sat at the table. Cas put the bread away and came to join him. Dean made a surprised noise when Cas set a second sandwich in front of him and sat down. 

They ate in silence for a while before Dean spoke up. 

“Thanks for the lunch, man,” he said, “ I didn’t know I needed it.”

Cas smiled at him, happy to be so close to him again and able to look into his beautiful green eyes. They sat there gazing at one another for a while before Dean blushed and spoke again, breaking the stare.

“I was wondering,” he started, “if we- I mean if you need to- or if we could…”

Dean broke of his rambling and took a deep breath. He looked up, and steeled himself. “Can we go back to my room to talk?”

Cas was delighted. He did his best to not let it show on his face as he studied Dean. He nodded slowly and stood to take the dishes to the sink. When he turned around, Dean was already by the door, waiting.

The walk down the hallway seemed to take longer than usual. Cas noted this- he had already observed how human’s perception of time was very flexible. In fact, as an experiment, he timed boiling water while watching it, as well as not watching it. It was the same increment of time, but _felt_ longer. Not unlike the two days spent with Dean in the bunker versus the two days with Dean away. It was quite interesting. 

Cas’ musing had helped pass the time until they reached the door. Dean paused and glanced back, worry on his face, before entering the bedroom. Cas followed and went right to the bed and sat down. Dean stood holding the door, blinking, before he seemed to shake something off and close the door and edge slowly to the bed. He sat, maintaining a small distance between them. 

“Dean, what is it,” prompted Cas, trying to get things started.

Dean ran his hand over his face and sighed.

“Cas,” he said, finally, “about the other day…”

Cas furrowed his brow and waited for Dean to continue.

Dean cleared his throat and looked down. “I wanted to say I was sorry about running out of the bathroom like that, it was stupid, it’s not your fault you’re not used to your new body yet and it’s functions…”

Dean’s face was redder than Cas thought possible. He decided to take over.

“You mean the erections,” he stated factually.

“Yeah, those,” mumbled Dean, “I mean- I’ve been avoiding you because i didn’t know how to react, and I realized that maybe you have no idea what to do with...the, uh…”

“Erections,” finished Cas, biting back a smile.

“Yeah. Um...you do know- don’t you? What to uh, with the, uh-”

 

“Erections?” Cas quirked an eyebrow playfully.

“Jesus, Cas, quit saying erections!” Dean exclaimed, frustrated. He looked back at Cas, who was holding his laughter in. Dean broke into a smile and the two started laughing hysterically, breaking the tension that had been weighing on them.

When they had quit giggling, Cas considered his options. He could A: tell Dean that he was quite competent at masturbation, or B: that he was in need of some instruction. It wouldn’t quite be a lie- both were technically true. But ‘competent’ still meant a bit of chafing, and there was that unfortunate incident with the butter dish. Better not tell Dean about that.

Cas took a breath and looked Dean in the eye. 

“I am quite certain that I can manage,” he said carefully, “but I seem to be having difficulty with the part at the end.” Cas knew he was straying into lying territory, but he seemed to not care much about it. “I stimulate myself, but it can make the skin overly sensitive so I am unable to complete the task.”

Dean’s eyes were wide and he was breathing shallowly. He blinked a few times.

“Have you tried lubrication?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded, “I think so, I mean there are a few soaps in the shower-”

“Well there you have it,” Dean interrupted, “soap’s no good. It’ll make your skin sting. You need something specifically for- hold on-” Dean reached over Cas to the table beside the bed and opened the drawer. Cas breathed in his smell while he was permitted to be that close, and felt his blood flow directly to his already half-hard member. He noted again how interesting it was that thoughts could have such a profound affect on his body. 

Dean sat back with a small bottle in his hand. “This is what you need,” he said, “you can have this one, I have a backup.”

Cas nodded, making sure his fingertips brushed Dean’s hand as he took the bottle. He kept his eyes wide with innocence and prayed for forgiveness for what he was about to do.

“How do I use it?” Cas said, batting his eyelashes at Dean.

Dean’s pupils dilated and his breathing sped up. He reached out with a hand and took the bottle back, flipping the lid.

“Um, you just, um, get some on your hand and you know,” Dean made a crude jerking motion with his hand. 

Cas bit his lip, watching Dean’s eyes follow the motion. 

“I may need you to show me,” he said, lowering his voice a bit. That seemed to have some sort of effect on Dean, because he jumped up and started pacing the room.

Cas found it really amusing how Dean was trying to hide his arousal. He decided to be merciful.

“It’s okay, Dean, nevermind, I’m sure I can figure it out on my own-” 

Dean stopped, stared for a second and paced to the bed. His jeans looked tight in the front. Cas stared openly at the bulge and waited for Dean to make up his mind. He was quiet long enough that Cas looked up.

Dean’s uncertain look was gone. It was replaced with his more usual cocky smirk.

“You’re just fucking with me, aren’t you?” he said.

Cas smiled sweetly. “I thought it was only masturbation, but if you’re offering sexual intercourse, I’m agreeable,” he deadpanned.

Dean broke into laughter again. He shook his head fondly at Cas and sat back down.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said softly, sliding closer to Cas. “How about this: let me lie down against the headboard and you can sit in front of me and I can watch your technique and maybe give you a few pointers.”

Cas couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face. He nodded and stood, pulling his shirt off, in a hurry to get naked with Dean. 

“Now I’ll keep my boxers on, okay?” Dean stood and undid his belt. Cas watched with great interest as the jeans came down, revealing Dean’s hard member straining against the cotton of his underwear. 

Dean climbed back onto the bed, propping himself up with pillows against the headboard. He motioned for Cas to come lie with his back to Dean’s chest in the v of his legs. Cas stripped his pants and boxers off quickly, noting the twitch in Dean’s pants at the sight of Cas wearing Dean’s underwear.

Cas stood for a moment, feeling the heat of Dean’s eyes as they raked over his physical form. He felt his own pulse thundering through his body, and his hands had begun to tremble. This was exactly what he wanted, what he’d desired from Dean this whole time, and it was overwhelming now that he had it so close to him.

He breathed slower and climbed over to Dean’s waiting arms. Once he had his back settled onto Dean’s warm chest, he relaxed fully and rested his head back on Dean’s shoulder, their cheeks touching. It felt wonderful. Warm and safe, yet hot and electric. 

Dean grabbed the bottle off the bed and reached in front of Cas to pour some lube into his hand. Cas hesitated. He turned his head slightly, his lips centimeters from Dean’s ear. 

“I want you to do it,” he whispered, causing Dean to shiver and let out a low moan. Cas pushed further back against the jut of flesh of Dean’s cock that was between them. Dean automatically pushed back, giving in to the friction before stopping and taking a deep breath. Cas could feel him nod as he poured lube into his own hand, dropping the bottle to rub it between his fingers to warm it. 

Cas’ cock was flushed and rock-hard, and was leaking fluid onto his abdomen. The first brush of Dean’s fingertips across the head made him thrust his hips forward, chasing the feeling and causing Dean to chuckle.  
“You like that, don’t you?” he growled in Cas’ ear, “you know how much I’ve wanted to touch you? And for how long?”

Cas couldn’t speak, so he shook his head no as Dean ran his fingers up and down Cas’ shaft lightly.

“Remember the park bench? At the playground?” Cas nodded.

“When you let me in- when you told me that you had your doubts and let me know you cared about what I had to do,” said Dean, placing a kiss along Cas’ jawline. 

“Maybe even before then,” he continued as Cas began gasping at the light stroking, moaning for more.

“Maybe it was when you blew the roof off that barn and I stabbed you,” Dean said quieter. Cas gasped as Dean’s hand tightened around his cock, stroking up and down slowly. Cas thought about the implications of what Dean had just said. When Dean first laid eyes on him. For that long.

Cas quickly twisted halfway around latched onto Dean’s mouth, kissing him roughly, pushing the desire, to love, the passion, all the things he felt for Dean into the kiss.

He broke away, breathing hard. 

“It was when I saw you in hell,” Cas said quietly. Dean’s hand stopped. Cas continued even though he wished he had just shut up so Dean would keep pleasuring him. 

“I saw your soul, and it was beautiful. And once I touched you then, I knew I’d never be able to stop wanting to.”

Dean kissed his neck with fervor, moaning into his skin, whispering soft nonsense. His hand had resumed its task, and Cas arched up into the sensation. He could feel his balls start to tighten up. He gripped Dean’s thighs on either side of him and dropped his head all the way back, muttering in broken English and Enochian. This seemed to fuel Dean, as he sped up and whispered encouragement into Cas’ ear.

Cas could feel he was close, it was the most amazing thing he had ever felt. Dean was so caring and giving to him, it was so different with him- so much different than it had been with April. Maybe it was because he loved Dean, loved him so much-

Wait. April? Cas rode the edge of his orgasm and realized. 

April. The reaper he had met before Dean had rescued him. Then Dean had made him leave the bunker. That’s what had happened. This never happened. 

He turned to tell Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh-oh
> 
> Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat
> 
> Don't fret. I got you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #High School AU  
> #Nerd!Cas  
> #Bisexual!Dean  
> #not any porn!  
> #sorry about that  
> #tropes abound  
> #the troppyest trope to ever trope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> muhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhaha etc.

Dean startled awake. The bell was ringing loudly signaling the end of third period, and the end of the ridiculously boring lecture Ms. Mills had been trying to get through without putting everyone to sleep. 

She slammed her hand on her desk in frustration. Several heads popped up. She smiled ruefully and motioned to the smart board behind her.

“Homework, people.” Everyone groaned. “I know, I know,” she said placatingly, “but we dicked around for the majority of the semester, and by ‘dicked around’ I mean ‘actually learned useful information you can actually apply later in life,’ and we need to get through the Common Core stuff before the testing starts next week. So humor me. And graduate. I’m tired of all of your faces, and need summer vacation worse than all of you.” She smirked at the class as she earned a few chuckles as the students filed out of Senior English. 

“Dean!” she called to his retreating back. Dean hid his grimace, and turned back to her wearing his most charming smile.

Ms. Mills rolled her eyes and snorted as she waved him over to her desk. Dean dropped the act she always saw through, and shuffled over.

“Dean, we’re getting close to the end of the year, and if these grades don’t come up, I worry you won’t graduate,” she said empathetically, “I think you need to get someone to tutor you after school.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. He knew he had missed a few writing assignments, but he didn’t realize it was going to count against him. In the past Ms. Mills had been easy on him regarding his written assignments, knowing he had a slight learning disability. She had been able to give him a few oral presentations as a substitute, and he had done very well in comprehension and critical thinking. But putting it down on paper was an obstacle Dean had yet to overcome, and he was so close to getting the hell out of high school, he could see her point. Not that he liked it.

“Okay…” Dean said cautiously, “who do you recommend?”

“I was thinking,” she replied, “you need someone who really knows his stuff and who can- don’t you roll your eyes at me, young man- and who can help you specifically with the test material.”

Dean’s shoulders slumped as he thought, _don’t say Castiel don’t say Castiel don’t say Castiel-_

“Castiel Milton has already agreed to devote three afternoons a week to help you.” Dean winced.  
Ms. Mills pinned him with a shrewd eye. “And you _will_ graduate on time, or so help me, I’ll tell Bobby Singer not to hire you.” 

Dean straightened up, “Hey you can’t do that, that’s my only option when I get out of this shit-heap-”

“Language, Dean,” she admonished, “then you shouldn’t have a problem with the tutoring arrangement.”

She snapped her lesson planner shut, ending the conversation. “He will meet you in the library today after school at 3, so you’d better be there.” 

Dean nodded sullenly. He had plans of taking his kid brother out to the movies to see the Purge, now that he was 18 and could get the pipsqueak in. Sam would be so disappointed. And Dean hated letting him down.

***

Dean entered the cafeteria in a foul mood. He spotted his friends Charlie, Benny, and Kevin sitting near the back of the room. Without bothering to go through the line, he made his way over and plunked into an empty chair, sighing dramatically. 

Charlie arched an eyebrow at him. “What’s got your panties in a twist, princess?”

Dean smirked at the nickname and laid his cheek on the table. “Ms. Mills has it out for me,” he said into the formica, “I’m stuck doing after school tutoring three days a week because I’m ‘failing’ and I won’t ‘graduate.’” Dean accented his snarkiness with actual air-quotes without lifting his head.

Benny chuckled, making Dean raise his head. 

“Brother, you know she’s looking out for you,” Benny said, handing over half his sandwich, “but only because you’re a suck-up brown-nosing teacher’s pet.”

Dean took the half sandwich and rolled his eyes at his friend. “Whatever, loser. That’s not even the worst part. The worst part is she has me working with Castiel Milton.”

“Oooh,” Charlie jumped in, “he’s so nerdy blah blah blah. Dean, hey see if you can get me his sister’s number, kay?” Charlie nodded her head enthusiastically.

Dean grinned at her. “Yeah, Anna is pretty hot...but all that ginger in one bed? Ya’ll would burn the house down.”

Kevin laughed, snorting milk up his nose, causing the rest of the table to dissolve into giggles. Dean thumped his back and snuck a glance over to the table Castiel was sitting at alone, typing furiously on his laptop. His glasses had slipped down his nose, and Dean watched him absently push them back up without even slowing his typing. Dean wondered aloud what it was he was writing, or maybe he was playing a game. 

“My guess is World of Warcraft,” said Charlie as she stole a pickle off Benny’s plate, “I get like that when I play- totally blocking out the real world. Someone should tell him it’s probably not healthy to be gaming so much.”

Kevin snorted. “Didn’t we play 17 hours of Call of Duty like a week ago?”

“Totally different!” she defended, “we were at home. And hopped up on Red Bull. We had to keep playing until the caffeine buzz wore off.”

“Yeah, totally different,” Benny said smirking and turning to Dean. 

Dean was still staring at Castiel. The guy was cute, and really smart; if he wasn’t so socially awkward he would probably get hit on by half the girls _and_ guys at school. He was a loner though, and in the four years he had been at Lawrence high, Dean had never seen anyone who could crack that exterior. Not that it mattered, it wasn’t like Dean had time for any new friends, and surely Cas was going off to some fancy ivy-league school next year. 

Castiel suddenly looked up, meeting Dean’s eyes. Dean looked quickly away, but realized he was about to spend a few hours with him after school, so pretending not to see him was just dumb. He looked quickly back and smiled tentatively and gave a small wave. Castiel tipped his head to the side and bored holes into Dean with those piercing blue eyes. Finally he put up a hand and awkwardly returned the wave. They sat there for several moments, staring, until Castiel finally broke the gaze and went back to furiously typing. 

Dean sighed and turned back to his friends. They were all grinning at him knowingly. Dean felt his face get hot. “What?” he said lamely.

The other three burst out into laughter. Dean waved at them to stop, “okay, okay, hilarious. Shut up. I’m just being friendly.”

There was a general rolling of eyes and someone changed the subject.

Dean took out his phone to shoot a quick text to Sammy.

_Me: Sorry bout this Sammy but I got to go to the library after school. We can do the movie maybe tomorrow?_

_Sammy: It’s Sam. Sammy is a chubby 8 year old._

_Me: whatever ur like 12_

_Sammy: Why are you going to the library?_

_Me: I gotta do some tutoring for those standerdized tests_

_Sammy: *Standardized_

_Me: see why I need tutoring?_

_Sammy: Clearly. I’ll just meet you there- I’m sure I can find something to do._

_Me: Nerd. yeah make out with a book or something_

_Sammy: Shut up jerk_

_Me: ur such a awesome brother_

_Me: *Bitch dang autocorrect_

_Sammy: lol_

 

********

Castiel was pacing the back aisle of the library, chewing his thumbnail. Dean was already 15 minutes late. He wasn’t looking forward to this, and he was positive Dean didn’t want to be there either. The least he could do was show up on time.

Castiel sighed and plopped back down in the ugly uncomfortable plastic chair. He wasn’t upset that he had to tutor Dean, in fact, he had volunteered- maybe a little too quickly- when his AP English teacher asked his class yesterday if anyone could help him with the tests they had to pass to graduate. He had known Dean, well sort of, since his family moved to Lawrence in 7th grade, but he never really took an interest in the boy until Ms. Mills had him come to the AP class to do one of his oral presentations on his interpretation the Scarlet Letter. It was really quite intriguing. He seemed so comfortable standing in front of a whole class of students he was unfamiliar with (except Charlie, who appeared to be his best friend) and speak critically for ten minutes straight. The class was mesmerized and applauded enthusiastically when he finished, Castiel among them. He was very charming, and intelligent in an unconventional way- Castiel had heard that Dean could take apart a small motor and reconstruct it in under an hour. That was apparently impressive, though Castiel was rather ignorant in that area. 

After the presentation, Castiel started to notice Dean everywhere he went. They didn’t share any classes this semester, but their study period was the same and they had lunch at the same time. They parked on the same side of the building, and they both liked the same coffee shop. The problem was that Dean never seemed to notice him.

Except none of this was real. None of this was actually happening and Cas was fighting between the implanted information and the truth he knew so clearly. Someone was messing with reality, and he needed to find out if Dean was the real Dean and not just a part of this djinn dream or whatever it was.

But it didn’t feel like a dream. He knew he wouldn’t be able to access his memories if he was under the spell. And the story kept changing. That was unusual. He felt like he was missing something, but he couldn’t access the memory of where he was before this all started. Dean might be able to help. 

According to the implanted memories, the Castiel in this universe was somewhat of a ‘nerd’ which apparently included him being intelligent in his studies as well as an avid fan of television programs and movies. He found this ironic because of his dire lack of knowledge of pop culture in reality. It would really have made more sense for Dean to have this trait in the current narrative, but they were clearly dealing with an entity that only knew the surface details of their lives.

Part of this Castiel’s daily functions included reading and writing stories about the television shows, books, and movies he watched or read. He had a laptop, and when he was dismissed from class, he searched it carefully for evidence that would point to the captor. He was met with interesting results.

He had never become acquainted with the technology that the Winchesters used so frequently, but Castiel, the nerd, had extensive knowledge of navigating the internet. 

He came across a website that was dedicated to stories posted by fans. It turned out that Castiel the nerd was an avid writer of ‘fan fiction’ pertaining to the book series written by Chuck Shurley, called _Supernatural,_ which Cas had known as the _Winchester Gospels._

He read through several of the stories bookmarked to his profile and was less than surprised to find the narrative about the bunker as well as the one where he meets Dean at an auto repair shop. His heart pounded as he read the gratuitously sexual parts, and blushed at the highly descriptive erotic portions. He looked through about 200 stories written about he and Dean. It seemed to be a popular notion that the two of them fornicating was an inevitability. The other ones Castiel the nerd bookmarked were about a gay detective couple in London, and medical professional who had the ability to travel through time in a phone booth. 

He had no idea how Dean would take the news. 

As if on cue, the young man in question turned the corner around the bookshelves and approached the table. Castiel locked eyes with him and then quickly looked away. He could do this, he just needed to focus on the task at hand. 

“Hey, you must be Cas,” Dean said, extending a hand to shake.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas returned, solemnly taking Dean’s hand. 

The handshake seemed to go on a little longer than it should have. Dean let go suddenly, flushing lightly and sitting down with his backpack on the table. Castiel watched as Dean nimbly riffled through his books and paperwork pulling the right study guide. His hands were wide and strong and the calluses were prominent on the inside of his right thumb and across the arc of his palm. They were hands accustomed to working on cars.

_Like Baby,_ Castiel thought, _the 67 Impala John Winchester bought because Dean suggested it when I sent him back in time-_

Cas shook his head, clearing the thoughts. Reading all the fanfiction was really starting to mess with his head. He had to be more careful to keep the narrative from invading his thoughts. He looked up at Dean when he realized the man had said something while Cas was staring vacantly into space.

“Pardon?” he asked, embarrassed.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “I just asked if you had a pen. Looks like I left mine somewhere.”

“Oh,” said Cas, scrambling to get a pen to Dean, “um, sorry I-” 

In his haste he fumbled the pen and threw it directly into Dean’s face, bouncing it off his forehead.

“Oh, crap!” Cas said, turning red, “this isn’t going as I had expected.”

Dean rubbed his forehead and grinned. “And you were expecting it to go how?”

Cas looked away, cheeks burning. “I-uh I mean…”

“Hey man, it’s cool,” Dean said quickly, “let’s just get down to it. I mean let’s get started...on the studying thing.” It was Dean’s turn to blush. It was really difficult to keep from sinking into fake Cas’ fake crush with fake Dean. He needed to confront him and find out if it was actually Dean.

The tension had increased slightly, but Cas cleared his throat and pushed forward to start the assignment. He decided to ignore the fact that this Castiel had made Dean the object of many of his masturbatory fantasies and was sitting less than 2 feet away from him. He shifted himself under the table as discreetly as he could and continued to show Dean the material until he could figure out how to approach the subject of false realities. He didn’t want to spook Dean, so he had to trigger a memory in order to see if it was the real Dean.

***

“I can’t do this!” Dean practically shouted, pushing back from the table and starting to pace the area by the library table. “I just can’t!”

Castiel sighed. They had been at it for 2 hours and it was clear that Dean had had enough. He got up and stood in front of Dean, effectively stopping his pacing. 

Dean turned and almost ran into Cas. They stopped about 10 inches from each other. Cas took a risk and gripped Dean’s left arm tightly, staring intently into his eyes. Dean jumped at the contact. He stared at Cas incredulously.

“Do remember when we met, Dean?” he said, holding his stare, “Do you remember what I told you? That you were worth saving?”

Dean looked as if someone had punched him. He started blinking his eyes rapidly. His posture started to relax at Cas’ touch only to stiffen up as he seemed to come back to the present. 

“What was that?” he whispered.

Cas’ sighed in relief and let go of him. Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Cas,” he said slowly, “why are you wearing glasses?”

Castiel brought his hands up to his face and fumbled with the black framed spectacles and pulled them off, brows furrowed when he realized he didn’t need them to see at all.

“Dean,” he said, voice suddenly much deeper and gravelier, “what do you remember?”

Dean swung around, taking in their surroundings. “Wow, I thought we were in the bunker- what the hell?” He inspected his hands and groaned. “Is this a trickster thing? Because I am having _none_ of his shit today.”

Cas shrugged and sat back down. “Gabriel is dead, Dean. At least he was the last time I checked. But it is not impossible, I suppose.”

Dean nodded and began pacing again. “Yeah, but it doesn’t really seem to have his stink all over it. Maybe a djinn dream? I don’t remember being on a hunt, and I’ve never heard of a shared dream-” He froze and looked blankly at the wall in panic.

“Dean,” Cas said, jumping up and rushing back to Dean’s side, “what is it?”

Dean turned white and started shaking slightly. He turned slowly to Cas and exhaled slowly.

“Do you-” he said haltingly, the color swiftly returning to his face, “do you remember...being in a bar? A-and I was a mechanic, and you were just passing through town?”

Cas sucked in a breath and went still. “That sounds vaguely familiar, Dean,” he said haltingly, “I thought it was a dream at first, but I was searching through this website that the Castiel from this storyline had been…” He stopped talking and was looking everywhere but Dean, realizing he should have thought out his plan a bit more.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Let me see it.”

Cas nodded and sighed. Shoulders slumped, he returned to the table and opened his laptop for Dean to read.

Dean’s eyes moved rapidly over the screen, scrolling down as he skimmed the writing. He got to the place where they had driven to Bobby’s house and had- he jumped up, rubbing his face.

“Aw Crap, man,” he said backing away, still covering his face, “did we just, you know…”

Castiel tilted his head, thinking. “I think the situation was...incomplete. I have a memory of you and I naked and stumbling onto a bed, and then you-”

Dean squeaked, interrupting Cas’ rambling. “That’s enough! I got it okay.”

They stared at each other. 

“And the bunker?” Dean said quietly, “that wasn’t real either?”

Cas looked down sadly and clicked on the link to the story, pushing the laptop back over to Dean.

Dean read quickly, guilt washing over his features as he sank down into his chair.

“I’m so sorry I made you leave, Cas,” he said, looking at the floor, “it’s my fault you were almost killed and…” he took a breath, “and my fault Kevin is dead. I’m not sure Sammy will ever forgive me-” 

His eyes widened in panic. “Oh shit! The maybe-fake Sammy is supposed to meet fake me here like right now!”

At the sound of his name, Sam appeared around the bookshelf all smiles and gangly limbs. Dean smiled in spite of what he had just said. Cas wondered if Sam was implanted into this story as well. 

Dean must have had the same idea. 

“Hiya, Sammy,” he said, jumping up to meet his brother, “do you remember the time in the motel when dad left us for three days and we watched all those scary movies and you hid under a blanket and I teased you because we had seen way more scary stuff in real life?” 

Sam froze and looked at Dean strangely. “Um, Dean,” he said slowly, “I don’t see how that’s funny.” Cas sighed in relief. Sam was the real Sam.

“Dad died when I was 6 months old,” he continued, “with mom. Why would you say that?”

He looked wounded. Cas watched Dean deflate as he turned back to Cas. 

“Guess it’s not him,” Dean said, “but that’s a good thing, because real Sam can try and get us out.”

Sam looked back and forth between the two. “So when are you guys so close?” he asked, “I didn’t think you even knew each other.”

“Hold that thought, Sammy,” Dean said, turning to Cas again, “can’t you just zap us out?”

Cas shook his head, a twinge of guilt in his gut for the stolen grace burning through his body. “Already tried. There’s something binding my grace.”

“Your what?” Sam looked between the two in confusion. 

“Yeah, no time for that Sam,” Dean jumped in, “do we know anyone named Gabriel?”

Sam’s eyebrows went up as Cas reached over to grip Dean’s arm again.

“Dean,” he growled out, “he’s my brother here too.”

Dean spun to him and threw his hands in the air, knocking Cas’ hand off. 

“Well why didn’t you say that from the beginning?” he said a bit too loudly, “Now come on let’s go find him and see if he’s the one holding us hostage in 90210.”

Dean grabbed his jacket and left his backpack on the table, running out of the library. Cas grabbed the laptop and motioned for Sam to follow. He’s not sure why it was important to bring the kid along, but he felt sympathy for the illusion of his friend. Sam shrugged and followed to catch up with Dean.

***

Dean sped down the road in the Impala, staying silent. A thousand thoughts were running through his head. Images of Cas sitting on the couch at Bobby’s with Dean’s dick in his mouth kept popping up. It was embarrassing and a turn on at the same time. He shook his head, trying to reset it like an etch-a-sketch. They had been about to have kinky sex...but then nothing. 

And the bunker. It was painful to even think about what might have been if he hadn’t allowed Gadreel to posses Sam in the first place. He know she had to do it, and Sam may still be completely furious with him, but it was still a choice that Kevin had paid for with his life. 

But Cas would have been there, and Dean would have been able to have something he had never dared to admit out loud. He could still remember the way Cas’ back pressed into his chest, the way his breath ghosted hotly over his ear. The way he said his name-

“Dean.” 

Dean jumped at Cas’ voice. He looked back in the rearview mirror and caught the angel’s eyes. He looked concerned.

“You’re driving too fast,” he said quietly, looking out the window. 

Dean relaxed his foot a little off the gas and tried to stretch the tension out of his fingers from gripping the steering wheel too hard. He breathed deeply and concentrated on the road, trying not to sort out the thoughts about Cas and what had already happened. Gabriel was going to pay for it when he saw him. How dare he make them feel things that weren’t real. 

***

Dean pulled in the driveway of a beautiful large mansion with a wraparound porch and impeccable landscaping. He snorted at the decadence, and rolled his eyes at Cas. The angel shot him a small smirk and chuckled. 

“In this reality, I live with my brothers Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and of course Lucifer. But for some reason we call him Luke?”

Dean choked on a laugh, causing him to dissolve into giggles. Cas raised an eyebrow at him in question.

“Cas, I’m pretty sure even here the name Lucifer holds some pretty heavy meaning. I mean, who would actually name a kid that?” He huffed out a remaining laugh at the absurdity that was his life. He looked at Sam in the passenger seat. The kid seemed content and was distracted by his phone which was blaring some indie rock crap into his earbuds. It had been Cas’ idea for the boy to not hear what they were talking about. Dean agreed. He couldn’t see himself allowing harm to come to even a fake Sam. 

He held up a finger to Sam to stay put while they went in. He got a distracted half-nod and a wave. Dean and Cas stepped out of the car to look for Gabriel.

Dean wanted to get his hands around the guy’s throat. Providing he could find the bastard first.

He pulled his jacket off, then as an afterthought, rolled up the sleeves of his flannel, exposing his forearms. He paused, staring at his right arm. The Mark. It was gone. Cool.

Dean hummed and followed Cas to the porch. Cas opened the unlocked door and ushered Dean in. They stood in the empty foyer and gaped at the obvious display of opulence. Dean’s jaw dropped. Cas wasn’t just rich, he was wealthy.

He looked at Cas with a brow up and lips pursed, biting back a smile.

Cas rolled his eyes and gestured stiffly around him.

“Yes, there was something about dead parents and inheritance. Michael is the head of the family and is very controlling but rarely around. I’m not sure what the point of this plot device is, but it may be why this Castiel doesn’t have any friends and keeps to himself.”

Dean nodded, not really understanding, but ready to find Gabriel and beat a confession out of him. “And Gabriel?” he asked, “where does he fit into all this?”

Cas shrugged as he lead the way to the kitchen.

“He’s the family ne’er-do-well who doesn’t work and eats a lot of candy? Seems a bit generic, really.” Cas made a bitter face at the thought. 

“Who you calling a ne’er-do-well?” came a voice from behind them. “And who’s your hot friend?”

Dean spun and grabbed the smaller man by the shoulders, backing him up against the fridge, growling low in his throat.

“You know good and goddamn well who I am, Trickster,” Dean sneered, “now fix this shit or I’ll shish kabob your ass.”

“Wow, buddy, Calm down,” said Gabe, who had the decency to look frightened. That threw Dean off a little. There was no way the archangel would be afraid of him. And frankly, he wasn’t the best actor. When he pretended to be Dr. Sexy that time, it was wholy unbelieveable.

Dean carefully backed away from Gabriel, not letting his guard down. This wasn’t the real Gabriel, it had to be another fake. Dammit, back to square one. He turned to tell Cas as much, but stopped when he saw the look on his face.

Castiel looked every bit of the vengeful angel that Dean remembered from the early days. His shoulders were squared and his eyes steely. His nostrils flared as he breathed slowly, never taking his eyes off Gabriel. 

“Are you sure, Cas?” Dean asked softly, “I’m not so sure.”

Cas gave a short nod but said nothing.

“Well I don’t know what you boys have been smoking,” Gabe said jovially, “but save some for me next time.” He turned his back to them and scribbled something on a scrap of paper that was stuck to the fridge. “So Cassie,” he said pointedly, walking over and handing his brother the note, “our brother is wondering where you have been and if you’ve been writing those dirty smutty _stories_ of yours.”

Cas’ eyes went wide as he took the paper, reading it’s contents. Dean took a step toward them, curious as to what was happening. Cas no longer appeared angry at Gabe, but there was another rage that flashed across his face. One that Dean found unsettling.

Gabe intercepted Dean before he reached Cas. “Dean-o,” he said seriously, “please take care of Cas, I’m not sure what’s going to happen.” Dean stared into frightened golden eyes and squinted in confusion. This was very unlike the Gabriel he knew. Where was the sarcastic asshole? What were the just desserts? What was his endgame?

He turned to Cas for answers. The angel’s mouth was set in a firm line. The paper was crumpled in his fist. His eyes met Dean’s holding his gaze as he spoke.

“It’s Metatron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> but serious-time? i love you guys. your comments give me life <3
> 
> Metadouche! whatdaya know. Poor Gabriel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #smut  
> #you're welcome  
> #you're still going to want to kill me  
> #but i'm okay with that  
> #Metadouche  
> #mentions of everyone's favorite superfan  
> #Becky Rosen  
> #Angst plus smut means angry sex later, right?  
> #this story was called 101 Tropes then I changed it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers like a drug dealer* hey kids ya'll want some smut?

Dean laughed as he closed the door after himself and Castiel. Cas could see the tears pricking the corner of the hunter’s eyes. It was nice to see the man laugh. The sound filled him with a warm feeling.  
“What's so funny?” he asked, a small smile on his face.  
Dean grinned and threw an arm around his shoulders. Cas blushed at the contact, his stomach flipping over at his touch.  
“Oh, nothing,” Dean said still chuckling, “Whoo! It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. It's been more than a long time. Years.”  
Cas watched as the smile slowly slipped off Dean’s face as they separated to get into their respective seat in the Impala. Cas was worried about the hunter. He seemed to lead such a complicated life. The weight of the world rested upon his shoulders, and now without Sam, the weight seemed to have increased. Cas regarded Dean with reverence from the passenger seat as the drove back to the abandoned house for the night.  
“Cas,” Dean said without looking at him, “you’re doing to staring thing again.”  
Cas blushed and looked away mumbling an apology.  
Dean smiled gently, seeming far away.  
***  
Cas sat in the wooden chair again, discouraged by the night ending the way it had begun. He was still a virgin regardless of Dean’s vow. It was disappointing. He thought about asking the hunter if he was so concerned about Castiel losing his virginity, why wouldn’t he just do it himself. They seemed to like one another, and Dean’s casual attitude toward sexual intercourse meant that it would be purely for the experience.  
Dean unrolled a blanket on the lumpy couch and flopped down on it to go to sleep. Cas remained sitting in the chair, careful not to look at Dean; he had been informed that watching over him was ‘creepy.’  
Cas thought it was perhaps his vessel. Jimmy was an attractive man, but Dean seemed to prefer women.  
Except Jimmy wasn’t there anymore. Jimmy had been in Heaven for some time now.  
Cas pounded the table in frustration, making Dean jump.  
“Metatron,” he growled out.  
Dean sat up and stared into space for a moment. His face broke into a silly grin.  
“Hey Cas,” he said, “remember that one time when I took you to see a hooker and she kicked you out because you told her it wasn’t your fault her father ran off?”  
He started giggling. “Oh man, that was classic,” he said, panting, “you were so scared of her at first, like _terrified-”_  
Dean sighed and leaned back on the couch. “Well, what now?”  
Cas sighed and rubbed his face. “I guess we could try summoning him here,” he said, shrugging, “and see what it is he wants from us.”  
Dean nodded and stretched, yawning, with his arms above his head. Cas could see a sliver of skin above Dean’s belt, the curve of a hipbone, and he longed to run a finger across it.  
“Dean,” Cas said, tilting his head as he so often did when he was new to Earth, “why were you so insistent that I lose my virginity this night?”  
Dean shrugged his shoulders and rummaged in his duffel and found a bottle of whiskey. He grinned at it and screwed the top off.  
“You know,” Dean said, ignoring Cas’ question, “got to give it to Gabriel, he sure can make a good illusion.”  
He took a large swig and held it out toward Cas. Cas looked at the bottle a moment, then came to join Dean on the couch.  
“Do you think it’s wise to be drinking now?” Cas asked before taking a long pull off the bottle and grimacing.  
“What books have you been reading?” Dean smirked, “You know, I am right at the I-don’t-give-a-fuck level right now and I just want to drink a little and enjoy the Mark being off my arm for a minute, okay?”  
Cas nodded, looking at Dean’s arm. “You know it’s just an illusion too, don’t you?”  
Dean’s smile softened as he met Cas’ eyes. “Yeah, I know. But still. It reminds me of simpler times.”  
“You mean the Apocalypse,” Cas said flatly.  
“Yeah, that,” he responded, “when things weren’t all fucked up between us and Sam and I hadn’t wrecked the world yet...however many times we’ve wrecked the world.”  
“Dean, why did you take me to have sex with that woman?” cas asked again.  
Dean’s expression didn’t falter. He _had_ heard Cas the first time. He slid a little closer to the angel, and took the bottle back, taking a sip.  
“I guess I was too chicken shit to do it myself.” Dean kept his eyes on Cas as he put the bottle to his lips again.  
Cas suspected as much. He simply nodded and pressed into Dean’s side, putting his weight on him. It was comfortable and warm, like coming home. It was always like that with Dean. He supposed that if the world wasn’t the way it was, they would have gotten together by now and had a chance at happiness. But the reality was that he and Dean were destined to fail- one would always be ripped from the other, and Dean was right. They should just enjoy themselves for just this moment, it was a rare thing to be able to just sit together quietly.  
But instead, Cas made a move. He sat up, twisting to face Dean and gathered him up into his arms before twisting him back and pulling the surprised hunter on top of him. Dean laughed and wrapped Cas in his arms and pressed his face into his neck. The laid there for several moments, enjoying the closeness. Their chests expanded and contracted together as they breathed, and their hearts would sync up for a few beats before losing the pattern again. Cas would be perfectly content to just lie there and hold each other.  
But instead, he pushed at Dean until the man was hovering just above Cas, their lips inches away. Dean’s eyes were dark, and Cas could feel his erection pressed into his hip where their legs were tangled together on the ratty old couch.  
Dean smiled sweetly down at him, stroking Cas’ cheekbone with his thumb. Cas parted his lips and ran his tongue out to wet them. Dean caught the motion and lowered himself slowly until their lips barely brushed.  
It sent a jolt of affection through Cas, and his heart seemed to swell in his chest. He brought up his hands to frame Dean’s face and touched their lips again. Dean tasted of whiskey and comfort, and Cas parted his lips in a sigh, inviting Dean to explore his mouth. The kiss deepened and Cas was lost in the tenderness of it, finally being able to have this with Dean. Cas was happy to just be there with Dean, holding each other and touching and kissing softly.  
But instead, Cas bit Dean’s lip and sucked it into his mouth. Dean’s breath hitched, and the floodgates opened. What started as gentle kissing turned into a battle of teeth and tongues that led to Dean’s pushing his hips into Cas’, causing them to moan into each other’s mouths. Dean sat up, straddling Cas’ lap to pull his shirt off. Cas leaned up and traced his tongue over the tan expanse of skin, twirling around a nipple while pinching the other, causing beautiful wanton noises to erupt from Dean.  
They made quick work of their clothing, stripping completely bare, and moved their sweat-slicked bodies against each other, looking for friction. Their cocks slid easily together, sweat and pre-come mixing, bring Cas right to the edge. He pulled back from Dean and looked him right in the eye.  
“I want to fuck you, Dean,” he growled, leaning forward again to lick a wide stripe up the hunter’s neck, causing him to shudder and mumble encouragement.  
“I want you, Cas,” Dean babbled, “I want you inside me, please...oh god I fucking want you to fuck me, please, Cas…”  
Cas reached down into the duffel and retrieved the bottle of lube that Dean kept stashed there. He move Dean onto his stomach on the couch and draped himself over him, hands running up and down Dean’s sides and pausing to stroke his cock and pinch his nipples. Dean was panting and moaning into the armrest. Cas sat back and put lube on his fingers and set the bottle to the side. He draped himself over Dean again and ran his erection along the crack of Dean’s ass beneath him, just sliding it as he licked and sucked at the skin on the back of Dean’s neck.  
Cas had Dean quivering and shaking from the simple contact, and he couldn’t wait to see what he would do when he fully penetrated him.  
Cas ran his lubed fingers in place of his cock and found Dean’s puckered entrance. Dean jolted at the touch, but pushed back on Cas’ fingers when he applied pressure. Cas slipped in the first knuckle of his digit and waited to see what Dean would do. The hunter whined and asked for another.  
Cas tisked him. “My aren’t we eager?” he said teasingly, “It looks like you’ve done this before? Maybe thinking of me?”  
Dean groaned out a stuttering yes as Cas slid the finger all the way in, crooking it slightly to stimulate his prostate. Dean pushed back harder and moaned out a string of “fuck fuck fuck fuck” as Cas pumped in and out of his body. Soon he added another finger, stretching Dean’s entrance, then adding a third. Dean was a writhing mess, begging for Cas to just fuck him already. Cas was so hard he was worried he wouldn’t last very long. So he pulled back, removing his fingers and turning Dean over.  
He was taken aback by the beauty of the man that was laid out in front of him. His eyes were dilated and his breathing harsh. His lips were swollen and red from biting, and a flush was climbing over his torso, accentuating his freckles. Cas could have just sat there and gazed upon his beauty all night.  
But instead, Cas pushed Dean’s knees up and exposed his hole. It was pink and swollen, throbbing with the need Dean was feeling to be filled by Castiel. Cas pressed the head of his cock against the hole and pushed slowly. He sank into Dean a little at a time, pulling out slightly then pushing back in, going a little deeper each time. Dean groaned

********  
Dean jolted awake on the couch. Fully clothed. With a raging hard-on. And more pissed off than he could remember being, and that included the Mark’s influence.  
He stood up with a frustrated howl and started kicking the shit out of the couch, pulling the cushions off and throwing them as hard as he could.  
“Fuck!” he shouted, “fucking, fuck fuck fuck!”  
He spun around looking for something to break and caught Castiel looking at him from the table with eyebrows up quizzically.  
“Dean?” he said carefully, “are you alright?”  
“No, Cas,” growled Dean, “I’m far from fucking alright. In fact ‘alright’ is a speck in the distance right now, and I will murder Metatron dead and you can bring him back to life just so I can murder him again.”  
“Dean,” Cas said levelly, “you know that angel resurrection is beyond my-”  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean sighed, visibly deflating, “the absolute fucking monster of a dick has given me the worst case of blue balls possible. I probably can’t even jerk off without that psychopath changing scenes on us again. I will _kill_ him deader than anyone could ever be dead.”  
Cas snorted, causing Dean to look over at him with narrowed eyes.  
“What?” said Cas, looking somewhat miffed, “you think I’m not affected as well? There’s only so much stimulation my vessel can handle before it becomes very painful. Is that what you mean by ‘blue balls’?”  
Dean could hear the air quotes in Cas’ tone and laughed humorlessly.  
“Yeah, Cas,” he huffed, “that’s pretty much the long and short of it. Say,” he paused, thinking more clearly since his outburst, “you mojo work any better here?”  
Cas shrugged. “Sort of. But it would seem that I am bound only to this narrative.”  
Dean sagged back onto the now very broken couch.  
“Figures,” he sighed, “but I think we need to go ahead and summon Metatron before I lose my shit completely.”  
Cas nodded and stood up. “That is a good plan. I can access supplies we would need to summon him, so we will start from there.”  
“I’m just-” Dean rubbed both his hands over his face. “I can’t handle the mind games anymore. I hate that he’s manipulating our brains, making us think we want _that_ with each other.”  
Cas froze. Dean saw him clench his jaw in his peripheral, opening his mouth to speak, changing his mind, and disappearing in a flurry of feathers.  
“Just great,” muttered Dean, “always disappearing on me. Typical.”

***

Cas took his time gathering the ingredients he needed for the spell. In fact, he was already back, sitting on the porch in the darkness thinking about what Dean had said. Was it really true that Dean only wanted him because it was implanted in his mind? 

Cas looked sadly at his hands. The hands that held Dean’s soul, cradled it, pulled it from the pit- fighting him all the way because the man felt he didn’t deserve to leave hell. That he deserved to rot there for eternity. 

The hands that rebuilt him, atom by atom, lovingly reconstructing him until he was whole again. Then searing his mark into his arm for all the world to see. Like signing a painting.

But Castiel’s pride would be the undoing of him. By creating this masterpiece of a man, he had used his grace to fill in the holes, and he had accidentally bound himself to Dean. He knew he loved him long before Metatron tore holes into their lives, and it was going to be the death of him, now knowing that Dean didn’t feel the same.

It had been easier not knowing. Then he could always hold onto the tiniest sliver of hope that Dean would finally see him someday- truly _see_ him, and return the love he felt so fiercely for the man. The Man. All of humanity beautifully wrapped into one body. A body that Dean didn’t really want him to touch.

***

Dean was pacing the room agitatedly when Castiel finally returned. He had been worrying himself stupid at the length of the angel’s absence, and groaned a sigh of relief when he flew in. He rushed to his side.

“What took you so long?” Dean said, accusingly, “Did you get everything we need?”

Cas nodded and spread the items out on the table, and got to work. He stayed silent as he handed Dean a slip of paper with a sigil on it and a piece of chalk. He seemed distant, but Dean figured it was because they were about to confront the angel that had stolen cas’ grace and had made him the target of almost every angel in the universe.

Dean carefully drew the sigil, placing a few objects around it as Cas handed them to him. He carefully poured a ring of holy oil around it all, quashing the images of using the holy oil as lube and begging Cas to take him right there, on the floor on top of the sigil, just to spite Metatron. 

He shook his head. Stupid effects of this story. They were still messing with him.

It’s not that he didn’t want Cas before all this. He did. In fact, he had been pulled to the angel ever since he plunged the demon knife into his heart. Watching Cas pull the blade from his chest and drop it onto the floor with a clatter, then block a blow from Bobby without even turning around had been so badass that Dean’s knees felt weak. Just remembering it had an effect on him. 

But now was not the time for that. 

Cas had the silver bowl ready, hovering over it with a lighter, watching Dean to get the signal to drop it into the bowl. The plan was to light it first, then drop a book of matches onto the holy oil, trapping Metatron and hopefully forcing him to release them (Gabriel too- guy seemed just as trapped as them) or at least get some answers that would help them escape.

Dean nodded and Cas dropped the lighter. There was a flare of light and smoke, and the unmistakable shuffling sound of wings. The smoke cleared and there he was. Metatron. Standing comfortably with a smirk across his face. Dean dropped the matches and the fire ring flared up.

Dean resisted the urge to to just rush the asshole and stab him with the angel blade from Cas’ trench coat in this world, but he stood his ground and glanced at Cas to see how he was doing.

Not well, by the looks of it. The angel’s jaw was working as it clenched, belying the cool look of indifference on his face that Dean associated with the early days. Even that was a turn on. Dean looked quickly back at the offending angel posing as God.

His grin widened knowingly as Dean appraised him. Dean sneered at him.

“Get us the hell out of here,” Dean growled, “and maybe I’ll kill you quickly.”

Metatron laughed, it was a high, reedy, grating sound, working it’s way under Dean’s skin. He tried to not visibly shudder with revulsion. 

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” The angel said, shaking a finger at him, “did you really think it was going to be that easy?”

Dean returned his smirk. “Yeah,” he said, laying on the sarcasm, “I was kinda hoping it was.”

“Well, now that we have that out of the way,” Metatron said happily, rubbing his hands together dryly, “would you like me to do the classic villain trope where I explain my evil master plan and you attempt to use it against me to escape?” 

Dean rolled his eyes and huffed. “If you insist,” he said feigning indifference. 

Metatron smiled. “As you know, I am an avid reader. I’ve read every written word in existence, from the classics to the trashiest _Fifty Shades_ shity knockoff. I ran out of material. I was pretty tired of reading the directions on the side of bathroom products- and let me tell you it is a testament to the stupidity of mankind if _for external use only_ has to be put on the labels of _curling irons-_ and i had to branch out. Of course the internet was the obvious answer. I picked up on the algorithms quickly- after all, I had read most computer programming textbooks already- and found this quaint little website where anybody- even the most terrible, ignorant, and boring writers- could post their own stories. And the best part,” he paused for dramatic effect, “is that they don’t even use their own characters! It’s great! In fact, I found the perfect thing. Over 42 thousand stories written on the two of you- as you were written in those awful Supernatural books written by that hack and, frankly, terrible prophet, Chuck Shurley. There are stories written in every kind of trope possible, every cliche’ imaginable, with recycled overused adjectives to describe a penis. Honestly, ‘love muscle’? Really?”

Dean’s face had drained of all color at the mention of the books. So the website in the high school story was a real thing. Metatron was using it just to taunt them. But to find out that that many people in the real world knew about him and his life and were actually writing perverted stories about him the way Becky the superfan had been, was a bit overwhelming. 42 thousand seemed like too many. 

Metatron had a very smug look on his face.

“The problem with the books, of course,” he continued, “was that the main romantic interest remained unrequited. And that was very frustrating for many fans. And I’ll admit, it’s always been a desire of mine to be the one to make it happen. In-real-life make it happen. So I’m writing this story. The story of how the angel Castiel fell to earth and fell for the man that represents all of humanity. How he gave up everything for him and would do it again in a heartbeat if he had to. Actually, he has. Over and over.”

Metatron turned to face Castiel and Dean followed his gaze. Cas was standing very still, eyes locked on a point in the distance, remaining silent.

“Castiel,” Metatron said condescendingly, “you know you could have all you desire if you would just give into it. To let yourself have what you want for the first time ever.”

“He doesn’t want that,” growled Dean, turning back to Metatron, “and you can’t keep making us, you know…” he made a gesture between the two of them, “it’s fucked up and you know it.”

Metatron’s fish-lipped mouth widened to show his crooked teeth in a gleeful smile.

“That’s just it, isn’t it?” he said, “not knowing what you’re doing or why you’re doing it? But you have to remember the most important part of my Father’s design- flawed as it is- is immoveable. Constant. Unyielding. And even I can’t change that. But I can always move it along a little, given the right circumstances, humans can’t resist their most base desires. And Castiel has been more human than angel since he yelled the battle cry ‘assbutt’!”

Dean furrowed his brow in confusion, “But how-”

“Oh that’s the most uninteresting, boring thing you could ask, Dean,” Metatron sounded irritated. “Don’t you see? I’m trying to make Destiel canon. It’s as simple as that. I have a pet archangel under my control and he’s helping me set this in motion. Why can’t you see that I just want to give my little brother everything he could ever want before he dies?”

“And what’s that?” Dean asked in almost a whisper.

Metatron raised an eyebrow and smiled smugly. “Opportunity.”

He raised his hand and snapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I actually feel kinda bad about that one. 
> 
> Kinda.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #OMG  
> #I AM SORRY  
> #no im not  
> #Sabriel  
> #two John Winchesters  
> #A+ parenting  
> #somebody's ass smells like pie and Dean's gotta have it  
> #the trope I'll never admit to loving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 kudos= I <3 Dean
> 
> 1 comment= I <3 Castiel
> 
> 1 rec= I <3 Lucifer
> 
> Ignore = I <3 Metatron and want to have his babies
> 
> <3<3<3<3

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” exclaimed Dean, looking around the unfamiliar room. Except that it wasn’t really unfamiliar. He spun around, getting a full view.

It was the bedroom he grew up in, but different. The stuffed animals and toys were replaced with posters of rock bands and shelves of books. He was relieved to find a laptop on the desk, and quickly went to it, determined to find the website Metatron was talking about and may be got some insight the whole “Destiel” thing he mentioned. It seemed to be the cause of this ridiculous cluster fuck.

He had so many questions. What did Metatron mean by canon? He had an idea about it- he actually had read a few _Dr. Sexy, MD_ fics, but he would never in a million years admit that to anyone. He was really surprised when he read them- it really turned him on. He had been searching the internet for porn with actors that might look like Dr. Sexy and his multiple love interests, and he came across a link to some really filthy fan fic. It might have been on the same website Metatron was gushing about. He hadn’t understood the tags portion or what it meant, so he started reading to see what it was about. It turned out to be Dr. Sexy and his best friend, Dr. Sloan, fucking rather roughly in the break room in the hospital. 

It took Dean a bit by surprise, but he kept reading, and his dick got hard shockingly fast. He ended up jerking it from _reading_ something, and man it was freaking hot. 

It was pretty clear that people had mooshed together his and Cas’ names to make Destiel. He scrolled through a few, but grew frustrated. It was so fucking unfair. The characters written in the stories always ended up together, in one way or another, often in comfortable domestic bliss. Dean knew that if it was even possible to have that in his hunter’s life, he’d want to live it with Cas. Even if they were only friends, he’d still want that. 

Dean closed the laptop when he heard loud footsteps outside his door. There was a quiet knock, and Dean yelled to come in. He figured it was Sammy, or this version of Sammy, by the sound of his big clodhopper feet. 

Sam walked in the room. 

“Hey, Dean,” he started, “I wanted to see if you-” Sam stopped and pulled a face. “Jesus Christ, Dean,” he said waving a hand in front of him, “did you forget your suppressors today or are you in heat, ‘cause that’s gross, man.”

Dean furrowed his brows in confusion. “What?” he said stupidly. There were words he recognized, but not in the context Sam was using them in.

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. He crossed the room and grabbed a spray bottle off Dean’s chest of drawers and tossed it to him. He gave Dean a disapproving look that Dean could more _feel_ than he could see, and stomped out of the room. 

Dean looked at the bottle in his hand. _Johnson and Johnson Omega Suppressant Spray,_ it said in fancy cursive letters. Dean squinted at the small print. _For the discrete Omega between heats, spray liberally in the mornings after showering._

Omega? That sounded familiar to Dean. He turned back to the laptop and flipped it open again. The search list of fics was still up, and he scrolled to the first one tagged _Alpha/Omega dynamics._

His jaw hit the floor.

“What the actual fucking fuck,” he said in disbelief. He had to find Cas immediately. 

He jumped up and ran to the door, pausing to run back and grab the spray. He sprayed it all around himself, under his shirt, even in his pants for good measure. He sniffed himself and shrugged. It smelled like nothing. But it had smelled like nothing before he sprayed, so clearly he couldn’t detect his own ‘scent’. He shuddered at the image of some of the stuff he just read. He should probably research for more information while he went to look for Cas.

Dean thundered down the stairs, yelling for Sam. He came up short at the bottom of the steps mere inches from an angry, and very alive, John Winchester. 

Dean made a squeaky noise, which he turned into a cough and clearing his throat.

“Hey, Dad,” he said awkwardly, “how’s it going?”

John snatched Dean up by the upper arm and dragged him into the living room, throwing him a little roughly. Dean quirked an eyebrow at him. Drunk grumpy John was run-of-the-mill, but angry John with a touch of violence was out of place. And he wasn’t even drunk.

“Okaaaay…” Dean drawled, looking up at his old man. At this point, it wasn’t even weird to see him again. Not really dad.

“I oughtta smack the shit out of you Dean,” John yelled, “were you actually planning on leaving the house today? At the start of your heat?”

Dean was hit in the face with a dominating smell, mixed with disgust and seething with anger.

“Oh my fucking god,” Dean said, jumping up, knocking John to the side, “I do not even have time for this shit right now, I have to go find Cas.”

John stood shocked, eyes wide. 

Sam came to the doorway, leaning on the frame and biting into an apple. “Gabe’s brother?” he asked, “I wasn’t even aware you two knew each other.”

Dean wanted to simultaneously kill himself and kill everyone in the room. 

“Sam,” he growled, “take me to him right now.” 

Sam smiled. 

“Finally found yourself a respectable alpha, have you?” John said suspiciously, “has he agreed to help you with your heat? Because you know I don’t approve of that.”

Dean rolled his eyes and headed to the door, grabbing his jacket on the way out.

“You coming, Sammy?” he said over his shoulder.

Sam shrugged at his dad and followed Dean out the door.

***

“What the hell was that, Dean?” Sam asked while he drove to (who’da guessed it) the same house from the other story. Dean was extra annoyed because omegas weren’t allowed to drive in this world.

Dean sighed. “I don’t know, Sam, I just don’t feel like dealing with this trope. I mean, like what the fuck. I am not going to get pregnant and have ‘pups’. It’s ridiculous.” 

“We’ve talked about this,” Sam looked exasperated, “even though it’s what you’re biologically made for, you do pretty well for yourself, even with limitations-”

Dean rolled his neck and squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s not what I...Wait, limitations? You know that’s sexist as fuck, Sam.”

“You know what I meant, Dean,” Sam shot back, “I mean limitations society puts on you. Geez, I’m going to freaking law school because of you. You know how important omega rights are to me.”

Dean could smell the protective alpha waves coming off of Sam, and he felt immediately calm. That was actually kind of nice to have his brother be there with him. Sort-of-Sam, anyway.

“Sorry, Sammy,” Dean said, dopey smile on his face, “you know how I get when I’m in heat.”

Dean shook himself. No. NO. He couldn’t get sucked into this plotline, not now. He had to keep control of himself until they got Gabriel to get them out somehow. 

They pulled up to the lavish house and parked in front. Sam sat still for a moment. 

“You swore you wouldn’t tell dad, right?” Sam asked with his best puppy dog eyes.

“Tell him what?” Dean had his hand on the door, ready to get out.

“About me and Gabe,” he said quietly, “he can’t find out or he’ll disown me. I know I told you I’d keep my visits to his house to a minimum, but don’t be surprised if you smell me all over the house,” he finished in almost a whisper.

Dean held his features as still as he could. His heart was hammering in his chest. He could feel Sam purposefully sending him more calmness, and he wanted to break his face for it. 

He was going to murder Gabriel. For real. Murder him so hard his grandkids would feel it. If he actually had grandkids. Not impossible- he was a pornstar after all. He clearly had sex.

He gave Sam the fakest of smiles and got out of the car before he could say something that would probably be perceived as homophobic, and not just disgust with the idea that Gabriel would dare have a fake relationship with fake Sam in this fake universe. How dare he.

Dean practically ran up the steps, already having rung the doorbell before Sam got there. The nerd was actually nervous about seeing the archangel. Dean nearly threw up in his mouth. 

The door swung open with a flourish and a man who looked suspiciously like the 1978 version of John Winchester came into view.

“Yes, can I help you?” he asked, not bothering to hide his disgust.

Sam smiled tightly and gave a curt nod to the other alpha. “I’m here to visit Gabriel.”

“I’m sure you are,” came the snide response. After hesitating, the man rolled his eyes and stepped out the way to let them pass. 

The brothers moved past him. The man stuck his arm out barring Dean from passing.

“Well, well,” he smirked, moving in closer, “what do we have here? A little omega due for his heat? Delicious.”

Dean barred his teeth, ready to attack him, but Sam stepped between them, staring the man down.

“Back off, Michael,” Sam growled. Dean could smell the waves of fierce protection and the stink of territoriality radiate from Sam. Michael shrank back, bowing his head to Sam in submission, but continuing to growl.

“How dare you,” he gritted through his teeth, “in MY house? I should-”

“But you won’t,” came a familiar snarky voice from the hall beyond.

Gabriel sauntered out of the shadows looking like that cat that ate that canary and sucking on a red lollipop. 

Dean narrowed his eyes and started toward him. Gabriel held up a hand, causing Dean to stop in his tracks. 

“Not here, Dean-o,” he said happily, “don’t want to scare the cute little mirages, now do you?”

Dean gritted his teeth and stayed silent.

“Piss off Michael,” Gabe said, slapping his brother on the back, “go hump someone else’s leg.”

Michael gave Dean and Sam one last sneer and slunk off in the direction Gabriel had come.

Gabriel turned to Sam and fluttered his eyelashes. “Sammy, my love, get over here and let me climb you like a mountain and plant my flag-”

“Oh, my god I think I _am_ going to puke,” Dean groaned, “why would you do this? Why? Do you hate me that much?”

Gabe smirked as Sam slung an arm around him, planting a kiss on the top of his head. 

“Hey man, I’m just the art director over here,” Gabe, said, his hands up innocently, “...and set designer...aaaaand casting...well basically everything except the script. That’s not my thing, really.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled, “just take me to Cas.”

“I swear Dean,” Gabriel said seriously, “I did not ship this.”

Even Dean knew what that meant.

“But you don’t have to enjoy it so much!” Dean shouted as he stomped over to the stairs and started to climb. He had to get away from that asshole. 

“Dean!” Gabriel ran up the stairs after him, Sam on his heels. “Dean you need to know something before you walk in that room…”

Gabe was talking but Dean ceased to hear. He had arrived at the top of the staircase and was struck dumb by the smell that greeted him there. He closed his eyes and let it fill his sinuses to detect every note, every facet, wanting to bathe in it. He found himself moving, gliding, to the last room down the hall. The scent was the strongest there, and Dean was almost assaulted with the smell of cinnamon, brown sugar, and... apples? _Oh my god that smells like apple pie what the fuck that’s the best thing I ever-_

He felt a hand wrap around his arm, yanking him back from the door he was currently pressed up against. He shook the hand off and blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head. He became aware of two things at once: He was hard as a rock, and his asshole was leaking copious amounts of fluid all over the insides of this thighs.

“What the fuck?” he cried, “What-”

“Shhh,” Gabe said in soothing tones, “I was trying to tell you to cool it- this storyline has Cas in a rut and you in a heat, and proving some kind of point about...I don’t know or care. I never liked fics with the meta stuff. It’s been done to death.”

Gabriel was holding Dean by the shoulders, supporting most of his weight. 

“Look,” he said cringing, “I have to let you go in there. I can’t tell anything just yet, but I may have a solution, you just have to hold out. Can you do that for me? Dean!” He shook Dean trying to get him to focus, “just do it for Cas, okay?”

“Anything for Cas,” Dean said dreamily, no longer in control of his mouth, apparently, “I need him. Just let me see him.”

Gabriel sighed loudly and let his arms go. Dean spun to the door and tried the knob only to find it locked. He whimpered in frustration and started banging on the door.

“Cas,” he whined, “I’m here! Let me in, I need you, let me in, please, please, please.”

The door opened so quickly that Dean fell into the room and onto the carpet. He rolled over on his side, submerged in the smell that saturated every surface in the room. As he writhed on the carpet, there was a fresh surge of fluid making his jeans stick to his legs. His eyes fluttered closed as he twisted and moaned, running his hands over his body. He heard the door close.

He could feel a presence standing over him. He blinked his eyes open and peered upward. Castiel, angel of the lord was looming over him, panting heavily. His pupils were blown wide, and a trail of saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth as he watched Dean. He had his trench coat wrapped tightly, gripping it with both fists, his body vibrating with effort not to move.

“Cas,” Dean moaned, “I need you to touch me, please.”

Cas looked hungrily at him, a predatory look in his eyes. He started to lean toward Dean, causing Dean to hold his hands up to him, inviting him to the floor, but instead, Cas stalked over to the bed and sat down stiffly, retightening his coat. Dean whimpered again.

“Why don’t you want me, alpha?” he whined, “I need you, please.”

Dean got to his knees, in a fog from the scent radiating off of Cas, and crawled over to where he sat. He knelt between Cas’ knees and rested his head on his chest. It felt so good and right, like home, and he had the strongest need, desire for Cas to hold him. He felt like if Cas didn’t hold him, the universe would collapse in on itself. Dean felt like crying the longer he sat there waiting for Cas to wrap his arms around him. His alpha didn’t want him. 

He felt his mood shift. It went from the excitement of finding Cas, who he needed so bad, to utter abandonment. Of course Cas didn’t want him. Cas never really wanted him. He would leave again and Dean would be alone forever. He felt his chest ache and his insides spasm. Something was happening. He fell to the floor.

Dean felt Cas scoop him into his arms and hold him close.

“Shh, Dean, it’s okay, I’m here,” Cas whispered into his hair, “I’ve got you.” 

He rubbed small circles into Dean’s back. It was very soothing. Dean could smell the acrid odor of panic coming off of Cas as he tended to Dean. He sagged further into the floor. The very thought of having to touch him made the alpha panic. Dean was sure of it.

“Dean you have to snap out of this,” Cas said firmly, “none of this is real, remember? Gabe said we just have to hold out for a little longer and he can get us out of here, just hang on please.”

Dean would do anything for his alpha, so he sat up. The room started to become sharper and he could finally focus on Cas’ face. He felt his face redden.

“Oh my god,” Dean said, mortified, “I am so sorry about that, Cas, I didn’t mean to be all over you and then...holy shit I’m embarrassed.”

Dean could smell the relief on Cas. “It’s fine, Dean, I just was, uh...I uh, needed to...I was worried that if I give into the urges, I would do something that might hurt you. I’m, um. Altered.”

 

“Altered?” asked Dean, thinking immediately about the slick between his legs.

“Yes,” Cas stated, looking away and rolling his neck uncomfortably, “My, um. My penis has been altered.”

Dean broke into a grin. “Oh now you have to let me see it,” he teased, heat symptoms forgotten, “come on just a lil’ peek. I want to see what you’re packing in this world.”

Cas turned bright red, making Dean want to just rip off the coat that he had tied tightly around his waist in order to hold Dean.

“Dean it’s- unusually large,” Cas said, “and misshapen. I don’t know very much about this narrative we are trapped in, but apparently it’s one where I have a monster dick and you can be impregnated through your anus?” He scrunched his face up at the last remark, causing Dean to break into peals of laughter.

The corner of Cas’ mouth curled up slightly as he watched Dean fall back to the carpet, holding his sides and laughing. It only took a few seconds before Cas joined him, chuckling turning into breathless laughter. Dean thought he looked wonderful and happy. He wanted him to look like at all the time.

There were the last lingering huffs and giggles and they sat, just simply looking at one another. It was comfortable as always, and Dean felt safe in that moment. Like he wanted to hold hands. _Oh my god I have teenage feelings right now i’m so glad no one can see what I’m thinking-_

Just to break the tension from being too chick-flick, Dean lunged forward and grabbed at Cas’ coat. Cas squawked and tried to roll away, gripping the coat tighter, and breaking out into giggles. Dean saw that he would obviously have to tickle Cas until he yielded and let him see his ‘monster dick’.

Dean dug his fingers into Cas’ sides and tickled him mercilessly. Having a younger brother meant he had perfected his method over the years, and if he wanted to, he could probably make Cas pee himself. But he wouldn’t. Not this time, anyway. But they needed to pass the time until Gabe could get them out, and he wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

Cas made the highest squeakiest noises Dean had ever heard him make. It was adorable. Finally, he had Cas on his back, pinning him down with his knees, tickling his neck, and Cas called for mercy.

Dean smiled down at him, panting. He felt something shift under himself. He froze and his eyes widened. Surely Cas’ dick wasn’t long enough to reach up this far…

“Dean, I need you to get off of me right now,” he said sharply, pushing at him.

“Why?” Dean said, the smell of fresh apple pie flooding over him again. He wanted to grind down with his hips, but fought the urge and let Cas push him off. Cas sat there, panting, and pressing on his crotch.

“I don’t know if can stop once it starts,” he said in a strained voice, “I don’t want to take advantage of you like this,”

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean said, “I know you wouldn’t. I just wanted to see…” he pounced again, “your WEINER!”

Cas shrieked and rolled away, losing his grip on the coat, causing it to ride up. Dean gasped.

Cas was naked under the trench, and the sudden attack made him move his arms enough to give Dean a full view.

“Holy shit, Cas,” Dean said shakily, “that’s...that’s something else…”

Castiel’s penis was at least three times larger than humanly possible, and thicker than Dean’s forearm. It curved upward and was rock-hard, covered in veins and an angry purple. The base was swelling as Dean watched, and he was equal parts kinda grossed out and kinda aroused.

Cas grabbed the edges of his coat and covered himself, frowning at Dean. 

Dean’s brain began to cloud again. He could once again smell the scent of apple pie, but this time he could detect the muskier notes of nutmeg and sweat, and the smell of Cas that always lingered on his trench coat. He knew that smell very well. 

When the leviathans took Cas underwater and (what Dean thought at the time as) out of his life forever, the trench coat was all he had left of him. It was all he could do to keep himself alive that year; he was reckless, he drank too much, he couldn’t eat unless Sam forced him to, and he gave up on sex for a long while. The hole that Cas left in him wasn’t easily filled with anything. The angel had taken all the best parts of him when he left. 

He would hold the coat to his nose (when he was feeling especially masochistic and drunk) and inhale the last piece left of the only thing that had made him truly happy. 

Giving Cas the coat back was like a promise; an unspoken admission to the angel of what he meant to Dean. 

When he lost Cas in purgatory, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to find him. He slashed and stabbed and bludgeoned his way through monsters just to be at his side again. And the first thing he did when he saw Cas by the river was bury his face in the coat and breathe him in. 

It was _home._

Dean came back to the present with his face burrowed into Cas’ chest. He was being tightly held and rocked. Cas spoke soothing words into Dean’s hair and pressed a kiss into his head in between each encouragement. Dean realized he had been crying. 

There was too much. It was more than he could put words to. It burned a hole through his patched-up soul and consumed him like fire. 

Cas tipped Dean’s face up to his and wiped the tears from his cheeks. They simply held each other and breathed, eyes locked, for fear that the other be torn from them.

The door unexpectedly flew open and Gabe darted in, quickly and quietly, and grabbed them both by the shoulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw, Sabriel. you make my heart flutter. and btw, Gabe is a goddamn liar, he ships the fuck out of it.
> 
>  
> 
> Also "tyrannosaurus prick" was a little on the nose, so I went with monster dick
> 
> For those who don't know about Misha and the penis reduction:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQZC7sNwbUk
> 
> You ARE WELCOME. (and the comments are pretty fucking cute)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #Jared Padaleski lol  
> #Misha Collins  
> #Jensen Ackles  
> #don't get your panties in a bunch  
> #sexy times next time  
> #Richard Speight Jr  
> #stay tuned for supernatural on the cw  
> #dick sp8's sexy beard is sexy  
> #deus ex machina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wrapping up some plot deets here and then on to the next chapter in which i write a bunch of destiel feels and the smuttiest smut to ever smut
> 
> <3 
> 
> I'm a big ole whore for comments. I always write back. Because I seek validation from those I love (that's you)

********

Gadreel stood in the sandbox, eyeing the angel who was keeping guard. She was casually swinging, looking the other direction but on high alert guarding the back door to Heaven. Gadreel nodded slightly to her and motioned to Gabriel who was waiting at the entrance for the signal. 

Gabriel easily threw Dean over his right shoulder, Castiel over his left, and spread his wings and took off. 

The air filtering through his wings was exhilarating, even with the world’s dumbest lovebirds weighing him down. It would be a relatively short trip- Sam was setting up the motel room for them to hide in until Gadreel finished his part of the bargain. Then Gabe could fly off into the sunset giving everyone the finger. 

_If_ things went according to plan. The Winchesters were Galactically known for fucking up every little thing they tried to do. It was kind of their signature move- and although Gabe found it kind of adorable in the end, he got stabbed in the heart by his brother for his troubles. Not that he was bitter about that. Luci had actually stabbed another one of his doubles- he had already popped off to hide in Heaven. No one would think to look for him there.

Except when his dumbass brother got duped by Metatron, and he crashed and burned to the ground like the rest of them. It didn’t take long for the giant Metadouche to find him and use the horn and the Angel Tablet to trap him. It was embarrassing, really. If he hadn’t been so busy laughing in the scribe’s face, he would have noticed that Gadreel was completing a complicated set of sigils to bind him. Fucking Angel Tablet. Why would anyone keep instructions on how to kill the Host just laying around like that? 

Gabriel touched down in a shabby room of a non-descript hotel in Kansas City. Sam was ready, spray paint can in hand, to complete the sigils as soon as Gabe was inside the room. They were designed to keep them hidden and safe by warding angels from entering.

Gabe dumped his brother and the shorter Winchester ungracefully on the bed. Sam gave him a disapproving look and went to straighten out the men on the king sized bed. Gabe rolled his eyes and walked to the desk were Sam’s laptop was sitting open.

“Ooo, Sammy,” he said, smirking, “whatcha looking at over here?”

Sam darted in front of him, slamming the laptop shut.

“It’s just Sam,” he said, giving Gabe his best bitch face as he slid the computer away from the angel.

Gabriel lifted an eyebrow, “My my, I thought we were on good terms last time we saw each other. You know, me sacrificing myself so you could get away from Lucifer. I’m kinda selfless that way.”

“You know good and well you were saving Kali, and clearly there was no actual sacrifice involved,” Sam said angrily, “and then you just let us think you were dead. That’s kind of a bullshit coward way to say good bye.”

“Didn’t realize I owed you one,” Gabe shot back, “you didn’t even try looking for me.” He started pacing the room, keeping his eyes trained on Sam who was definitely pouting.

“Remember the good ole days Sam?” He plunked down on the bed between their unconscious brothers and kicked his feet up. “I’d kill your brother, you’d hunt me for 6 months? Good times.” Gabe grabbed Cas’ limp hand and placed it on Dean’s crotch.

“But you were dead,” Sam said, deflating, “you said so yourself.”

“Yeah, and I’m known for my honesty,” sighed Gabe, pulling a cherry sucker out of his pocket, “good thing I didn’t tell you i was hiding at the bottom of the ocean. You’d have drowned trying to find me. Oh, That’s right! You weren’t looking.” 

“What’s with the beard?” Sam asked, trying to change the subject, “trying to blend in with the coffee shop crowd?”

“Oh ha ha,” Gabe retorted, “I’ll have you know, I’m a director now.”

“In porn,” Sam said, smirking.

“Sure...in porn.” Gabe chomped the last bit of his sucker off the stick and stood. “Which reminds me, I have to pop off for a little while to go talk to these guys and have them sit tight until we hear from Gad. You stay here and finish that video.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Sam and walked to the door.

Sam’s face went crimson. Gabe chuckled. “Check out at 14:34,” he said, “it’ll blow you away.”

Sam mumbled as Gabe walked out the door. “That better not be a blow job joke.”

Gabe smiled to himself as he flew off. The big moose already had the laptop open again. This version of Sam was definitely the most fun.

********  
Cas blinked in the bright sun. He shielded his eyes for a moment while they adjusted. He whipped his head around and was relieved to find Dean right beside him, blinking as well. 

Dean was looking around with his mouth hanging open. Cas stepped closer to him, gripping his arm. It wasn’t anywhere he recognized, but there were an unusual number of people around them, though none of them looked threatening. In fact, they seemed to be completely ignoring the pair standing in the middle of what looked like a parking lot. Several of the people was talking into headsets, looking through stapled piles of paper, or looking at their cell phones. 

It was odd. Cas couldn’t feel his grace, so he was definitely human, but there was something else strange about this place that he couldn’t put his finger on. 

Dean grabbed his arm back, excitedly, with his eyes lit up.

“This is it, Cas!” he explained with a grin, “the place where Balthazar sent us, remember? When you were fighting Raphael?”

Cas cringed at the mentions of both his brother’s names, especially Balthazar. He lived with that guilt every day.

“What is it Dean?” he asked, “It seems...different.” 

“Where’s Gabriel?” Dean asked suddenly, looking around, “maybe one of these people know.”

Before Cas could even react, Dean had snagged a young lady wearing a headset and asked her something in a low voice. She gave him a very confused look and responded. Dean said something, no doubtedly charming, and she blushed and laughed with him. Cas frowned, instantly disliking the girl.

She turned to Cas at that moment, smiled widely and waved at him. Cas couldn’t help the small smile that creeped across his face, she _was_ being nice to help them. As soon as she walked she, his scowl returned.

“How would she know where Gabriel is in this place?” Cas stage whispered furiously to Dean, “I insist you tell me immediately where we are.”

Dean snickered. “I guess I never really did fill you in on what happened to Sam and I when we Quantum Leaped through that plate glass window. This was some kind of weird universe where the Supernatural books are a television show and Sam and I are actors.” His face brightened. “And you! You were here too, not you, but a guy that plays you on the show, but we thought it was you-”

“Dean you’re babbling, is there a point to this?”

Dean ignored him and froze mid-thought. 

“But you died,” he said quietly, “I mean, Misha died. The rogue angel cut his throat, it was _awful_.”

Cas tilted his head and waited.

“But if you’re here now, and that girl didn’t think it was weird, Misha must be alive now,” Dean concluded.

“Can we locate Gabriel now?” Cas said impatiently, “I would like to get out of here as soon as possible, this place feels wrong to me.”

“Fine,” Dean said, rolling his eyes, “he’s on set right now, but she said we can catch him between takes.”

Cas furrowed his brow and followed as Dean took off across the lot. 

“Is this where he makes pornography?”

Dean snorted and chuckled before it turned into a full-blown hysterical laugh, causing several people to look at them. Cas noticed that most just smiled knowingly at the two of them or shook their heads in amusement and went back to whatever they were doing. Cas thought maybe these two versions of themselves were familiar to the people, and apparently ‘Misha’ could say something to make- whoever Dean was here- laugh like that. Interesting.

They started walking toward a very large building. Dean led, and smiled at nearly everybody he saw. Everyone seemed so friendly. Cas began to smile too, and the response was the same. It was very pleasant.

They turned a corner and nearly ran into Sam.

“Sam!” Cas said, glad to see a friendly face, “it’s good to see you. Have you see Gabriel?”

Dean stepped in front of Cas and grinned at Sam.

“Haha, Misha, you’re hilarious,” Dean said, looking pointedly at Cas, “you know this isn’t Sam, it’s um, uh…”

The Sam look-alike rolled his eyes. “Whatever losers,” he said fondly, “did you see the response to Misha’s tweet?”

Dean stepped back and looked at Cas. Cas furrowed his brow. “Tweet? I do not understand-”

“Wow,” said Not-Sam, “you’re gonna do the thing today? You’re such a drama school nerd. But look-” 

He turned his phone around to show Cas. There was a picture of him in the corner of the screen. It was funny looking- the man had his tongue arranged against his lower lip in a strange way. Below the picture was typing. It stated, “Just found a dead fish J2 left in my car. Time to plot my revenge *evil laugh* @JensenAckles @jarpad #prankwar

“What’s a ‘jarpad’?” asked Cas, “and what is a J2?”

“Duh, Jared Padaleski,” said Dean quickly, “forget it, Ca-...Misha,” he said slapping the angel on the back, “we have somewhere to be.”

Dean started off in the direction of the building. Jared looked at him shaking his head.

“He thinks Padaleski is funny every time.” he turned to Cas. “Hey why are you in costume? I didn’t think you were working today.”

Cas tried to shrug casually, but it must have come across rather stiff, judging by the way Jared was looking at him.

“I’m um, plotting my evil revenge, of course,” Cas offered, “so just you..um...look out!” he finished weakly.

Jared chuckled. “You know we only torture you because we like you, right?”

Cas shrugged again. Jared grinned at him, slapping him on the shoulder and then walking off.

Cas broke into a light jog to catch up with Dean. The man was waiting impatiently at the door, signalling for Cas to hurry up. They walked in together. 

They were immediately intercepted by Gabriel, and steered back out the door. Cas glanced at him over his shoulder. His brother must have been in some sort of disguise- a long scraggly beard and baseball cap. The beard actually suited him.

They arrived quickly at a large mobile building with a plaque labeled ‘Jensen Ackles’ on the door. Dean grinned at Cas and pointed at it as they walked in. They were pushed onto a couch next to an enormous fish tank. 

“Here’s the 411 boys,” Gabe said urgently, “Sam trapped Gadreel in holy fire and they had a little coming to Jesus which ended up with them basically kissing and making up. Don’t look at me like that Dean, the guy was manipulated by Metatron too, sound familiar? Sam told him he was grateful for healing him blah blah blah. Gad wanted to make it up to you guys and helped spring us from jail.”

Cas grabbed his arm. “Wait. We are- _were_ \- locked up- in Heaven?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and clapped a hand over Cas’ mouth. “Forever ahead of the game, aren’t you little bro? Yes Heaven. Which means there’s a way in and out. Gadreel has been recruiting angels for Metatron in exchange for his freedom and forgiveness for the snake business- poor guy’s been locked up for so long he’s got Stockholm and had no idea he was going to be Metatron’s bitch. He’s already freed me, and I have your vessels in a motel room with Sam right now. I got some more mojo to work- you guys need to sit tight and work out this bullshit tension between you, it’s starting to make me physically ill.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, but won’t we start to be affected by this storyline? It’s hard to know what are my own thoughts and what’s Metadouche making us do things.”

“Oh, Dean,” Gabe said condescendingly, “bless your lil’ ole pea pickin’ heart. Once again missing the whole point. Look, Metatron wasn’t kidding about Dad’s making free will the only true constant in the universe. Regardless of where you are and what you’re doing, you two will always come back to each other. I just had to set the stage. BTDubs- sorry ‘bout all the cockblocking- if I’d let you guys finish up, the game would be over and there was no way Metatron would let you live. Or me for that matter.”

Dean and Castiel just looked at him in embarrassed disbelief. They carefully didn’t look at each other. 

“Oh my Dad, is it always gonna be like this with you two?” Gabe said, throwing up his hands, making his way to the door, “oh, and don’t touch anything here. This is an actual alternate universe and one of my personal favs to hang out in, so try not to fuck it up for me. Metatron doesn’t know we’re here.”

“Wait,” Dean said before Gabe could leave, “but Misha died here. Killed by one of Raphael’s henchmen.”

“Yeah, I had to go back and do a fix-it on that one,” he said, “I kinda liked the little guy- he reminded me of someone I know.” 

With a smile and a wink, he disappeared out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A motel? A king sized bed? Jensen Ackles RV on the lot? Sounds like the set up to some really cracky porn. that would be terrible, right?
> 
> no. it would be very good.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #Gadreel  
> #Gabriel  
> #Sam Winchester is the best person in the world and you know I'm right  
> #Metadouche  
> #starring Richard Speight Jr's beard  
> #Sam is prolly jerkin it to Casa Erotica  
> #some light Sabriel but nothing smutty  
> #sorry about the lack of smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I lied and there's no smut here. But honestly, the smut got way out of hand and is longer than I thought. So here's some stuff about some characters I like and one I don't. 
> 
> comment me for fun and prizes!*
> 
>  
> 
> *the only prize is my winning personality

********

 

Gadreel looked around carefully after Gabriel left with the two prison escapees. The angel guarding the portal gave him another nod before he ascended back to Heaven. She had been a great asset in this mission and he was grateful to have found a Castiel loyalist amongst the ranks of angels he had been ordered to recruit in the past few days. 

His conversation with Sam Winchester had been a difficult one; he had confided in the man all that he had gone through, from the foolishness of following Metatron to the immense guilt over killing a Prophet of the Lord. He knew he would burn for that, and he admitted that he wished for Sam to just end his life because he deserved that and worse. 

The boy with the demon blood looked at him without pity- it was empathy that shone from his eyes in an understanding that took the angel by surprise. Sam explained about how he was ready to give up his life- _wanted_ to give up his life- by trying to close the gates of Hell, but because of Gadreel, he was allowed to live and given another chance to start over. He said mistakes don’t mean that you are without value or without purpose. 

Gadreel had cried openly when Sam thanked him for saving the woman Charlie Bradbury and for saving his brother Castiel. He had never been told, since the beginning of humanity, that he had done something right. 

And now he had a new mission. He had to free Gabriel and Castiel and the older Winchester from the confines of the very prison that he himself had spent many millennia in punishment for trusting Lucifer and making the worst mistake in the history of the world. 

If he could redeem himself to his Father, he could leave this plane of existence knowing that he had fulfilled the original mission: to love and protect humanity at all costs. 

Gadreel walked through the reception area of Metatron’s office. He had been very careful to avoid addressing the false God as “God,” because he had finally seen the true colors of this usurper of the Holy Crown and he feared his wrath would be impulsive and crude as was the angel himself.

Carefully schooling his features to cool indifference, Gadreel knocked on the office door, and was bid to enter. Metatron sat behind the desk, typing gleefully on a typewriter which contained the Angel Tablet. He barely glanced up at Gadreel as he filled the angel in on what he was working on. 

“This one I especially love,” he said with that grating high-pitched cackle, “in this one, Castiel is a witch in search of a familiar and Dean can turn himself into a cat! Great, right?”

He finally looked up at Gadreel, his eyes demanding approval.

“Very good sir,” Gadreel said neutrally, “it sounds very interesting.”

“Ah, whatever,” Metatron said dismissively, looking back to his writing, “you wouldn’t know interesting if it sat on your face. And don’t call me sir, the name’s God, alright?”

There was an internal struggle warring inside the other angel before he nodded and relented.

“Very good, God.” 

Gadreel fervently prayed to his Father silently, begging His forgiveness for addressing this false idol with His Holy Name. 

“Do you have any news for me?” Metatron continued to clack the keys of the typewriter as he spoke.

“The new recruits are ready to be addressed,” he said, his back straightening, “you’ll be pleased at the number I have found.” _And displeased at the number who are loyal to Castiel,_ he thought.

Metatron nodded curtly and typed a few more keys with finality. He stretched and stood, a smug smile on his face. 

“Don’t forget to upload this new one to that website,” he told Gadreel, “I think this is the best one yet. Now that I have my army secured, I don’t need that Winchester anymore, so dispatch him and drop Castiel off near some idiot loyalist rebels. That should get the ball rolling.”

Gadreel suppressed a shudder of revulsion and gave a tight smile as Metatron left the room.

He waited until Metatron was out of sight and went quickly behind the desk. He wasn’t sure he could remove the writings from the internet- such a concept was foreign to him- but destroying the originals would break the binding spell. 

And he would be redeemed in some small way and that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one chapter to go, then an epilogue.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #smut  
> #finally  
> #top Castiel  
> #bottom Dean  
> #a wee bit of Sabriel  
> #sexy times  
> #Dean being angsty af in his natural habitat   
> #motel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay okay here's some smut. It gets a lil' romance-y, which is cool, though I prefer a proper banging. 
> 
> An epilogue is next, then you're free to go live your life.
> 
> Sorry for holding you hostage so long.

********

Dean stared through the fishtank blankly, trying to formulate words that would be in the right order and at least slightly coherent. All he could think was _holy crap oh my god, Cas and I- we really, oh my god he really wanted to- we were...and the thing with- oh my god…_

He snuck a glance at Cas to see what he was thinking, but of course the angel took that exact moment to steal a glance his way. They met eyes for a flash of shared guilt, then quickly looked away. 

Cas cleared his throat and turned his body toward Dean.

“I suppose this is a good opportunity for us to...as you say ‘clear the air’?” he said tentatively.

Dean swallowed then nodded, finally turning to meet Castiel’s eyes. He figured he owed it to the angel to start since all of this was his fault anyway. If he hadn’t sent Cas to that warehouse to check out a lead, Metatron wouldn’t have gotten the drop on him, and they wouldn’t even be there. 

“Cas, I’m really sorry I got you into this mess,” he said, voice low with remorse.

Cas squinted at him, doing the head tilty thing that Dean loved so much. It was making speech even more difficult. 

“Dean, that’s not to what I was referring.” Dean looked up and met the deep blue eyes that had always held his affection. He felt his breath catch in his chest. 

Cas reached out one finger and ran it along Dean’s jaw line, causing his eyes to flutter shut at the touch.

“I’ve never done anything I didn’t want to do, Dean,” he said, “especially when it comes to you.”

Cas slid closer to Dean who just sat with a shocked look on his face. The angel watched his own hand as he carefully ran it along Dean’s arm until he rested on his hand. Then he gently wove their fingers together in an act more simply intimate than their actions in the last several hours. Dean continued to gaze at him, fear and hope mingling in his eyes.

“C-Cas-” Dean said softly, “I should have said something.” He swallowed again and leaned in slightly, his eyes drifting to Cas’ lips.

Cas’ tongue darted out and wet his lip, causing a burn in Dean’s lower abdomen. If he was going to do it, it was now or never. Cas leaned in to meet Dean in the middle, their lips centimeters away, exchanging breaths. Dean wasn’t sure who made the first contact, but it was nothing more than a brush of lips, soft and gentle.

Dean suddenly drew back, apprehension in his eyes. Cas clutched his hand tighter, as if he were afraid Dean would disappear.

“Cas,” Dean said, “If we do this, I need you to know something.” 

Cas nodded slightly, fear flickering across his face. Dean tightened his grip on Cas’ hand to comfort him.

“I want it all. I can’t just do this a little or occasionally, or when you feel like it. If you aren’t all in, go now. Because if it isn’t what you want-” he paused, looking down, “if _I’m_ not what you want, then…” he turned his eyes back to Cas, “let me go. I couldn’t look you in the face every day and not have you. It would kill me.”

Cas’ eyes were soft and the corners of his mouth were turning up slightly. He cupped Dean’s face with his other hand and pulled him close again.

He whispered against Dean’s lips, “Every since I touched your soul, I could never let you go. If you’ll have me, I’ll never leave your side.” 

And he pressed their mouths together, eliciting a moan from the hunter. This kiss grew more frantic and desperate as their bodies crashed together; Cas climbing on top of Dean and pushing him down to the couch, slotting a leg between his knees. They moved in tandem, already having learned each other’s bodies, only this seemed more real. Dean wanted to climb inside of Cas- to be as close to him as possible. He gasped as Cas rolled his hips down, grinding their erections together through their clothing. 

Cas broke the kiss and moved to Dean’s collarbone and sucked a bruise there. It felt so good, Dean didn’t care if anyone could see it- if they did, they’d know he belonged to the angel. He wanted to be marked by Cas; Dean wanted feel him inside of himself, he wanted Cas to ruin him and tear him apart from the inside out until there was no doubt, no fear left in either of them. He wanted this angel- more man than creature now- to stay with him forever. Until one of them died-

Dean froze, pulling back slightly to stare up into Cas’ darkened eyes.

“What did he mean ‘before you die’?” Dean asked quickly.

Cas’ eyebrows shot up in confusion. “I don’t-”

“When Metatron was revealing his ‘master plan,’ he said that he wanted to give you everything you could ever want before you die, what did he mean by that?”

Cas bit his lip and looked away for just a second. “I think he wanted us to be together-”

“Yeah, yeah, we know that,” Dean interrupted, “the last part, the part about you dying. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Cas pushed himself up into a sitting position, adjusting himself to not put too much pressure on Dean’s cock. He hung his head slightly.

“I’m using stolen grace, Dean,” he said, shame laced through his voice, “I’ve done something very wrong- I’m an abomination now, and this grace will deplete until it destroys me.”

“You mean until it kills you,” Dean said roughly, hands tightening on Cas’ waist, “until you die. When were you going to tell me about this? Or had it slipped your mind?” 

Dean shoved him aside and stood up, adjusting his waning erection. He was angry. Actually angry wasn’t a good description of how he felt. It was closer to rage. Rage which was immediately crushed by sorrow. He looked into Cas’ eyes and saw the devastation there and his will crumbled. He wasn’t the only one suffering with this burden- Cas had already been carrying it, and Dean didn’t want to fight and waste precious time.

He knelt down in front of the angel. “If we were to find your grace, like _your_ grace, would it fix you? Would you be okay?” He searched Cas’ face for hope but only got a sad smile in return. 

“I’m afraid it may have been completely used up in the spell,” he said with regret, “I would be surprised if Metatron had any left. If he did, it would only be a small piece since a large amount of energy would have been used to close Heaven.”

“Yeah, but a little?” Dean asked urgently, “would a little grace be enough to keep you alive?”

“It may be possible,” Cas hesitantly, “but I have no way of knowing where he would have hid it. I don’t know, Dean-”

“Please, Cas,” Dean pleaded, “please.” He didn’t know how to finish that thought. He just needed some reassurance, even foolish hope, that now he had Cas that he wouldn’t lose him. 

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas said soothingly, wrapping his arms around Dean, pressing against him, “we will figure something out.”

Dean sighed into Cas’ neck and inhaled his scent, memorizing it. He tasted the salt of sweat and scraped his teeth over his delicate skin. Cas shuddered in his arms, his hands moving down to grip Dean’s belt and haul him up to sit in his lap. Dean straddled his thighs, grinding his hips down, the mood heating up quickly to where they were before. Dean wanted him so badly. He wanted Cas to take him and claim him for good. 

“Cas,” he breathed between kisses, “I want you to fuck me.”

Cas moaned at the request, moving to lick Dean’s earlobe and whisper, “I want to. Very much. But I need it to be in our universe. With the real us, even with my stolen grace and you with the mark.”

Dean bit his lip. “You know about the mark?” 

Cas hummed. “I was informed of it when it happened. But Dean,” Cas pulled back and kissed his lips again, “we will work it out somehow, we always do.”

Dean nodded and surged forward for another kiss. It was deeper somehow, and he could feel the implied desperation and urgency in it. His chest swelled with love for the angel. It was both too much and not enough. He prayed to an absent God to hurry up Gabe and Gadreel to do their thing. 

Dean was about to ask Cas if he knew how long this would take but

********

Cas snapped awake. He was staring at a dingy white ceiling decorated with spray painted sigils. Angel protection sigils, to be exact, very similar to the ones tattooed on his hip. He heard a groan to his left. He turned to see a Dean-shape lump beside him twist his direction. Their eyes met and they smiled quietly at each other.

Cas knew they were back. He could feel the stolen grace coursing uncomfortably through his vessel, and he could feel the energy from the mark of Cain radiating in small pulses from Dean’s forearm. But they were back.

Both sat up to greet a very relieved Sam and a very excited Gabriel. He was nibbling on a chocolate bar and talking animatedly to Sam about something having to do with the world they just crossed from. 

“And I’m scheduled to direct my own episode this spring,” he said proudly, “well, Rich wrote it, but still-”

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed when he noticed the two on the bed had woken, “Thank God! Don’t get mad, but I kind of had Gadreel-”

“No it’s okay, Sammy, Gabriel filled us in on the plan,” he said levelly while keeping his eyes trained on the angel in question, who looked pouty when he lost Sam’s attention.

Cas smirked. He knew his brother had been impressed with Sam in the few interactions they had over the years, but this time Gabe was downright flirting. He was pretty sure Dean noticed as well.

Sam smiled at his big brother. He stood to hug him and stopped, staring with something like horror at Dean’s crotch then looking at the ceiling quickly.

“Um, Dean...do you want to maybe, I don’t know have some time alone or something?”

Gabriel burst out laughing. “Maybe we should leave the two lovebirds alone for a while, Sammy,” he said, “I know this great little sushi place in Tokyo, that you will love- all the servers are super hot-”

Before Dean could protest, Gabriel had snatched a surprised Sam and disappeared.

“Son of a bitch better not hurt my brother,” Dean growled protectively.

‘I’m sure he’s fine,” Cas said soothingly, “now get naked and go take a shower, I believe we have an appointment.”

Dean’s jaw dropped open. Cas lifted an eyebrow at him and glanced to the bathroom door. Dean jumped up and scurried over, pulling his clothing off as he went.

*** 

Dean’s shower was quick and efficient, and he only paused at the mirror to check his teeth out. Sam had left him his shaving kit, so he brushed, feeling better. He looked at his reflection in the slightly foggy mirror. He realized he was nervous. 

He had seen Cas naked about ten times in the last 24 hours, complete with that random monster dick situation, but suddenly it felt like more was at stake. The moment he stepped out of that bathroom, everything would change, and that was terrifying. They had no idea if either of them would survive the current crapstorm they were fighting. 

The only conclusion Dean could come to on his own was that Cas would leave him. He always left him. There would always be some force tearing the two of them apart, some mission more important. He feared that they would die alone, away from each other. The inevitability of it made Dean’s chest hurt. Why risk the heartbreak, when he could just back away quickly and pretend this never happened? 

Dean searched his reflection’s eyes. He saw the same eyes he always looked into. There were no new answers inside them; they reflected the same sadness and longing that he carefully hid from the world. The shame and self-loathing hidden behind the bravado. He didn’t deserve the angel waiting outside the room, he didn’t deserve anything good- it would start good and then he would ruin it. And they would leave him. They always left and never came back.

Something Gabriel said pulled him back to the present. _Regardless of where you are and what you’re doing, you two will always come back to each other._

Dean pondered that for a moment. Although he absolutely hated the archangel prick, he had to respect that the guy had some integrity. More so than most of the angels they had encountered. He taught his lessons to deliver justice in an unfair world. And why? Was it a game for personal amusement or a last-ditch effort to sway humanity in the right direction? From what little exposure he’d had to Gabriel, he was a trickster, yes, but he never lied to them. He dealt in misdirection, but he stood for something greater. He loved humanity. 

_Regardless of where you are and what you’re doing, you two will always come back to each other._

Maybe Dean could be wrong. Maybe Cas would leave, but he’d always find a way back to Dean. They were drawn to each other, helplessly pulled back into orbit, circling the thing between them; the intangible bond they were at the mercy of.

You could even say it was profound.

A smile crept across Dean’s face and he snorted back laughter, suddenly anxious to get out of the bathroom and into the arms of the love of his life. He ran his fingers through his hair, shot himself a ‘blue steel’ in the mirror and dropped the towel. He opened the door with a flourish, and stood in his best naked Superman pose. 

His confident smile faltered when he saw Cas sprawled out on the bed- wearing not a stitch of clothing and a hunger in his eyes. Dean blinked and the angel was inside his personal space, pushing him up against the bathroom door frame. All doubts and worries and were swiped from Dean’s mind with one determined lick from his collarbone to behind his ear. Cas worked his tongue over Dean’s flesh, biting and sucking, his breath blowing over a damp kiss, causing the hunter to shiver at the cool sensation against his hot skin. 

Dean couldn’t even feel the doorframe digging into his back as he spread his legs to slot Cas between them, and was hefted up to wrap them around the angel’s waist. He moaned, allowing Cas to take him apart, to surrender and submit, to trust him the way he had always deserved Dean’s trust. He wanted to give the angel everything he had, to pour himself into his hands and let Cas mould him into the Dean that Cas had always seen him as. He wanted to be that man. He wanted to be the good that Cas blindly saw in him. He wanted to return the absolute faith Cas had in him since the beginning. 

Castiel ground his hips into Dean’s causing the man to moan and throw his head back into the doorframe with a thunk, then the pain was offset by the shift of their bodies as Cas slipped a hand from under his ass to along his ass crack. Dean moaned desperately.

“Cas please,” he moaned, helpless to move, “please…”

Dean brought his eyes down again and was met in a fiery blue gaze, saying so much without uttering a word. Cas would take care of him.

Dean could feel the finger brush against his hole, causing it to flutter. Cas held his gaze, his breath hitching. The pressure increased, but he didn’t press in yet. Cas removed his hand, and in a move Dean couldn’t comprehend until it had already happened, he was on his back on the bed, with Cas hovering over him. 

Dean felt the world slow down and focus. He couldn’t believe he actually thought all those stupid worlds created by Metatron were real. All of that paled in comparison to what was in front of him now. The feel of Cas’ stubble scraping against his shoulder as Cas moved to lick and bite his nipple. The soft, messy hair gripped between Dean’s fingers. The slick slide of their cocks as Cas rocked against him in an unpredictable pattern, keeping him guessing when the next spike of pleasure would come. The chills mixed with heat rolling down his skin at every burning touch, caress, and stroke. He was being worshiped by the angel, his every movement reverent as he whispered quiet prayers into Dean’s skin.

“You’re so beautiful, Dean,” he breathed between kisses and bites on Dean’s hip bones, “you are perfect...I see the world through you and I see joy and love...You deserve good things...Thank you for trusting me, thank you for everything you are…”

Dean suppressed the urge to contradict Cas. The praise overwhelmed him and yet made him feel safe.

It all took a sharp turn when Cas swiftly took Dean into his mouth, tonguing along his head and pressing against his slit. Dean arched his back at the jolt of pleasure, and he tightened his fingers in Cas’ hair and gasped loudly.

Cas held his hips down as he took more into his mouth, sliding up and down, taking a little more each time until Dean could feel his cock nudge the back of Cas’ throat. And then he _swallowed,_ making Dean’s toes curl as he cried out.

Cas popped off with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You liked that,” he stated, “what would you like for me to do now?”

Dean shook his head trying to clear the fog. “I don’t know, just- please Cas _please_ ”

Cas moved back up to Dean face, pressing the man’s wrists above his head into the pillow. “Tell me what you want, Dean. Tell me how to pleasure you.”

Dean shuddered and moaned. He closed the small gap between them, sucking in Cas’ lip and licking the gasps and sighs from his mouth. The kisses deepened into the desperate hunger that had been building for years and suddenly Dean remembered the answer. 

“Cas, I need you inside me,” he whispered into the heated kiss, “I need you to fuck me, please.”

Cas moaned and writhed against Dean, dropping his wrists, and pushing Dean’s legs apart and moving back down. He settled between Dean’s thighs, running his fingertips up and down his legs and sucking marks into the skin. Dean quivered, hitching his breath every time Cas’ teeth made contact. Cas must have found Dean’s lube in his duffel while he was in the shower, because Dean heard the familiar click of the bottle cap and the momentary absence of hands as Cas poured lube onto his fingers, while locking eyes with Dean. Dean was breathless as Cas lowered his hand, petting along Dean’s shaft then his balls, moving behind them and further down while maintaining eye contact. They brushed against his hole, circling slowly, teasing, adding pressure in different spots while Cas gauged Dean’s response. 

Finally, _finally_ Cas pressed a finger in. There was no resistance from Dean’s body; Cas had him drowning in sensation and pliant and ready for him. Dean groaned, spreading his knees and pulling them to his chest. Cas made a noise of approval and moved up to his knees so he could lean over Dean while he prepped him. Dean was a mess by the time Cas added a second finger. He stroked Dean’s inner walls, pulling on the ring of muscle to loosen it and exploring further in, searching for the bundle of nerves that would send Dean over the edge too soon if he found it. Before Dean could warn him, Cas skirted the edge of his prostate, causing Dean to arch and gasp. Cas kept his fingers rubbing around the perimeter, but never directly pressing on it. Dean’ cock was swollen and throbbing, leaking a pool of precome onto his belly. He reached for it to relieve a little pressure. Cas smacked his hand away, smirking. Dean groaned in frustration and started pushing back onto Cas’ fingers. The angel took that opportunity to press in a third finger, twisting to graze over Dean’s prostate again. 

“Oh god, Cas I’m ready, please, just fuck me please,” Dean babbled.

“I love to hear you beg me for it,” Cas said darkly, “do it again and I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

Dean threw his head back and all but screamed, “Fuck me Cas, just fucking do it already, you’re fucking killing me!”

Cas chuckled and withdrew his fingers. Dean didn’t have time to mourn the loss before he felt the head of Cas’ cock press against his hole. He breathed deeply, relaxing as much as he could, and watched Cas’ face in awe as he slowly slid in. He made shallow thrusts at first, almost teasing before clearly giving in and pushing in one swift motion until skin met skin. Dean wrapped his legs around Cas and pulled him in closer, running his hands to wrap around Cas’ torso to pull him flush to his chest. They laid there for a moment, Dean reveling in the feeling of being so full, being so physically close to Cas, to be connected deeply. 

But also, he really just wanted to get pounded.

“Cas,” he said, “I need you to fuck me now. Hard. I want to feel you against the back of my teeth. I want to scream your name until I lose my voice. I want to- Ahh-ung!”

Dean was cut off by Cas sliding out then slamming back in. He hiked Dean’s left leg over his shoulder and pounded into him. Dean’s brain went offline and he submitted to pleasure and let Cas fling him to the precipice, riding the edge. Cas kept a inconsistant pattern going to keep Dean from coming right away, but soon Cas was almost there himself and his thrusts into Dean became more paced, and Dean found himself tensing up at the coil of heat in his belly and calling out. 

“Cas, I’m-” He didn’t finish his sentence and it hit him, causing him to quit breathing and crest along the wave before it broke upon the shore, shattering him into pulses that caused Cas to arch his back and come hard into Dean, the hot spurts wrung from him by Dean’s throbbing hole. 

Dean had nearly blacked out when he came, shouting nonsense, but managed to see the look of complete bliss etched into Cas’ features as he looked down at Dean. They rode out the aftershocks of their orgasms- kissing sloppily and uncoordinated. 

They stayed connected for a while longer before Cas stood and went to bring Dean a towel. He cleaned him up and led him back to the bathroom. Dean’s legs barely supported him as Cas stood with him in the shower and carefully washed him. Dean rested his cheek on Cas’ shoulder and grew sleepier in the hot water. He was asleep on his feet by the time Cas dried him and tucked him under the covers. Dean mumbled and pulled at him, making sure he got under the covers too, with Cas chuckling at Dean’s sweet neediness. 

Dean felt kisses pressed into his face and quiet whispers as he sank into deep dreamless sleep. 

********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like top!Cas, but I didn't want to delve into BDSM territory in this fic. I need to research more on that subject. You know, um...for uh, facts and things. Yeah, facts.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #sappy story wrap-up  
> #narrator trope  
> #ALL THE FLUFF AVAILABLE TO MANKIND  
> #no one ever dies  
> #you are watching supernatural  
> #wayward daughters  
> #if this is not the way the series ends i'm never leaving my house again  
> #imagine the text superimposed over still images like the end of a "based on a true story" movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part where I say:
> 
> WOW! Guys that was quite a ride. Thanks so much for all your support in this massive meta nightmare, I couldn't have done it without [insert name here] and [insert other name here].
> 
> You can not follow me on tumblr, because my blog is an embarrassment to us as a species. 
> 
> but I love you all dearly and writing smut is my soul purpose in life, so I'll keep em coming. get it? _coming_
> 
> [SECRET: ive never been beta'd. so i am accountable to no one! which is awesome or really really bad]

********

Ten years had passed, and every day Castiel thanked his Father for bringing Dean Winchester into his life. It was nearly 2 of those years before Dean fell to his knees and professed his undying love to a very elated angel. He’d never admit to crying at Cas’ feet and begging him to stay. But Cas knew the truth. 

Life had gone on much in the same was as it always had; Dean killed Abbadon, Cas and Sam nearly caused another apocalypse trying to remove the Mark, Cas got his Grace back, then met his aunt and reunited with his Father and older brother (sort of). Dean reunited with Mary Winchester in a strange turn of events, and she became the den mother of the bunker, and earned a large piece of Castiel’s heart when she threatened Dean to make sure he kept the angel happy. Sacrifices were made, as usual, but there were changes that came about in their right time.

Sam had pushed Dean to agree that, no matter what, they tell the truth and never again choose each other over the safety of the world. The agreement had a more profound impact on them then they would have thought. Trouble ended before it began, and eventually, they were able to pass the hunter torch to the next generation. 

Retirement was a fantasy at one point in their lives, but when the reality of it finally set in, Cas was worried that Dean would get restless and try to get back into the action as he had a habit of doing. But instead, Dean took up the responsibility of teaching everything he knew to Alex and Claire, honing them into the best hunters in the US. He was able to impart wisdom and provide sanctuary for them; something he and Sam were sorely missing in their wayward upbringing. Life for the girls was never destined to be normal, but they took on saving people as their purpose, and they did it with grace and strength that Dean admired and never failed to praise. He was an excellent father to them. Claire and Cas had a very tight bond- they giggled and whispered inside jokes, always causing eyerolls from Dean and Alex.

Dean and Cas reopened the bunker as a safe-haven for hunters and angels alike. There were a few rough starts, but compromises were made, and eventually, the two groups accepted each other and even worked together on global matters. There would always be threats to the balance, and they did their best to try diplomacy first. Crowley became less of a problem, retiring to Hell (very sick of being above ground) and running it efficiently under the constant, never-ending nagging of his mother. 

Sam removed himself from the hunting business again, and with a little help from a certain archangel, he got back into law school to finish his long-overdue degree. His new passion was seeking out cases of people who were wrongly accused in crimes committed by supernatural creatures. He kept mostly out of the fight and became the west coast representation of the Men of Letters. He never did marry, but Gabriel continued to ask, figuring he’d wear Sam down eventually. 

Gabriel went on to create a tv series based on the Supernatural books, and occasionally, a new book would surface on the internet, causing the series’ popularity to rise to cult-like proportions. The author remained elusive.

Cas acted as an ambassador to Heaven, representing the ground troops and advocating for better treatment of the ranks and implementing training in Free Will and how to use it responsibly. It was a difficult task, but Cas had accomplished much more impossible feats, and he did his job with pride. No one tried to claim themselves as the “new God,” and Heaven was run as an elected board with all angels allowed to have a say in the decisions made. 

Metatron was stripped of his grace and allowed to live out a very short human life; it ending with a noble sacrifice to save the very people he had betrayed. He had a room in Heaven piled high with books, which he happily quarantined himself to, only allowing disruption when they needed a translation on some of his more ancient writings.

John Winchester was finally located in Hell- and over what can be described as the most difficult thing Dean ever had to do- he was rescued and released to Heaven to wait for Mary to return. It was the best scenario anyone could have hoped for under the circumstances. Mary was as graceful as ever, knowing that one day they would be together again. She was happy to be able to take care of her boys in a way that had been robbed from her, and she lived out her final days in the company of her family. And finally the boys learned table manners. 

Castiel had been preparing a gift for Dean for a number of years. He had aged his vessel to keep up with Dean’s, and when the time came for Dean to retire from the planet, Cas joined him in the Heaven he created for him. It held the lake they had met in in Dean’s dream. The Impala was there, running like a dream, but enough mechanical problems so Dean could work on her for relaxation. The house was a creation of Cas’ imagination- it was full of light and air- and the bed held the best of memories. 

Of course, Ash still had the network going, allowing them to travel to each other’s Heavens. It was a lot like home, but without all the monsters. Eventually, when Sam joined them, he and Gabriel would sit in the Library of Alexandria or travel to points in the past, usually arguing, but completely happy.

Dean would lie on top of Cas in their bed on lazy mornings that would go on forever. There was no fear or worry, there was only love and joy. The past held no regret, and Dean and Cas had discovered their forgiveness to one another extending to a Father who accidentally created everything and then left it in their very capable hands. 

The only happy ending for Dean and Cas was one to be spent in eternity. 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm drowning in tears of syrup right now. It was either this or some angsty open-ended tripe. Which is my default setting, tbh. 
> 
> Love and unicorns and pie! see you next time, buckaroos!
> 
> OH MY CHUCK THIS JUST HAPPENED  
> Check out @JensenAckles's Tweet: https://twitter.com/JensenAckles/status/755486157270429696?s=09


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